



•• 4^ 






;. *▼ ^ _ %%|W .& ** '•?9E^* . ♦ 



;* & 



* A." 



»* .•"•. *C 



<».. *' vTi* .A 



* /V 






ir. ** ** «v t\ "V c**' 




















W * % 







o 4» *•- 



v ^*^ 



v-v 









*0 

















»°v 










.S\ 





*< 4^*'\ «° ''^Sk \- S 'fife 















& % ^ 






EARLY 



DISCIPLINE AND CULTURE, 



SERIES OF LECTURES 



TO 



fauitg Hen intir Satonuit 



BY THE 

RT. REV. THOMAS M; CLARK, D.D. 

BISHOP OF THE DIOCESE OF RHODE ISLAND. 



*4f 



/. 



PROVIDENCE: 

GEORGE H. WHITNEY 

1855. 






Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1855, by 

GEORGE H. WHITNEY, 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Rhode Island. 



CONTENTS 



LECTURE I. 

plan 

FORMATION OF CHARACTER, . 5 

LECTURE II. 

TRUE PRINCIPLES OF TRADE, 21 

LECTURE III. 

AMUSEMENTS, 43 

LECTURE IV. 

BOOKS, 61 

LECTURE V. 

THOUGHT, 79 

LECTURE VI. 

TO YOUNG WOMEN, 101 

LECTURE VII. 

PURITY A SOURCE OF STRENGTH, 121 

LECTURE VIII. 

THE TRUE STYLE OF MAN, 145 

LECTURE IX. 

ANALOGY OF MECHANICAL AND MORAL PROGRESS, 169 



LECTURE I. 



FORMATION OF CHARACTER. 



Lamentations hi. 27. — It is good for a man that he hear the 
yoke in his youth. 

The text is taken from a book, which is called 
u The Lamentations of Jeremiah;" a most appropriate 
title, for it would seem to have been written in the 
night-watches, with the wind moaning around the 
casement, and the black clouds chasing each other 
across the sky. We can see the prophet looking out 
from his window in the village of Anathoth towards 
Jerusalem, only three miles distant, which in former 
years he had been used to behold glistening with 
light at night-fall, and shining with brighter splen- 
dor at day-break, but now wrapped in gloom, and 
silent as the grave ; and then we hear him breaking 
out with sobs and tears into the mournful cry, "How 
doth the city sit solitary, that was full of people! 
how is she become as a widow! all her gates are 
desolate! the young and the old lie on the ground 
in her streets." 
1* 



Q FORMATION OF CHARACTER. 

But, after a season, his thoughts turn from the 
general desolation around him, to the contemplation 
of his own individual condition; "I am the man 
that hath seen affliction/' is the prelude to this new 
strain of melancholy music. In the midst of the 
intense and bitter misery which fills his soul, the 
words fall from him, as it were in a parenthesis, 
" It is good for a man that he bear the yoke in his 
youth :" as though he said, it is well that the disci- 
pline of life should commence in the earlier stages 
of our pilgrimage ; that such a character should be 
then formed, that we may be prepared for the expe- 
rience and inevitable trials which await us ; that we 
bend our necks to the yoke, before the habit of 
licentious freedom is established. 

With this somewhat sombre preface, I open the 
series of discourses, to which I would now ask your 
candid attention. It is my desire to present to your 
notice a few subjects of great practical importance, 
with more especial reference to the condition of 
young men who are about emerging into their 
maturity. I cannot promise to say any thing which 
has not been better said before ; and such a course 
of lectures as the present, might at first seem to 
be more than ordinarily superfluous in this city, 
where there has been, from time to time, so much 
admirable instruction addressed to youth. But it is 



FORMATION OF CHARACTER. 7 

to be remembered that, every few years, a new com- 
pany of young men appears upon the stage of action, 
and what is spoken to one generation does not reach 
the next. The style of life is also continually chang- 
ing; dangers and temptations appear under new 
forms, and it becomes necessary to adapt our teach- 
ing to the actual emergency. The infidelity of the 
day is not what it was thirty years ago ; the mode 
of doing business is not the same; the popular 
amusements are not the same ; the current literature 
has been essentially modified. Some things have 
altered for the better, and others for the worse; but 
I know of no social improvements which have made 
the world, upon the whole, any safer place for the 
young or the old. It is very possible that the atten- 
tion which is now given to the broad questions of 
general reform may make us careless, as it respects 
the correction of our own private sins and the dis- 
cipline of our own souls. Some have seriously 
doubted whether the leading impulses now affecting 
society, are such as will be likely to induce an ele- 
vation and improvement in the tone of individual 
character. We are trying a great experiment in this 
age, the result of which is not altogether as certain 
as some imagine. It is to be determined whether 
or not the renovation of the world can be effected 
by intellectual culture, philanthropic effort, and scien- 



g FORMATION OF CHARACTER. 

tific agencies, We do not undervalue these influ- 
ences; we do not doubt that man is becoming more 
humane, more thrifty, more comfortable; but if, at 
the same time, what may be called the sterner vir- 
tues are fading away, if there be less of stern probity 
and truthfulness in society, if the spirit of self-sacri- 
fice be now abating, if there be nothing to call into 
exercise that lofty faith which prefers martyrdom to 
apostacy, if the mechanical take precedence of the 
spiritual, if men are becoming forgetful of their rela- 
tions to eternity, there is serious cause for apprehen- 
sion. It is a very momentous question, what is the 
style of character which the prominent influences now 
at work are likely to induce? This inquiry resolves 
itself into such particulars as these: what is the 
moral effect of the present mode of conducting busi- 
ness? what is the character of our popular amuse- 
ments? what sort of books are most extensively 
circulated and read? what is the style of thought 
which has the strongest hold upon the rising genera- 
tion? It is to the consideration of such points as 
these that the present series of discourses will be 
directed. And I address myself more directly to 
the young, not that the formative processes of char- 
acter cease altogether when we reach maturity, but 
because the general direction given to these pro- 
cesses is ordinarily determined in the earlier years 



FORMATION OF CHARACTER. Q 

of life. There is a j^eriod of existence which no 
parent can see his child approach, without anxiety 
and fear. It is when childhood is just passing away, 
and the youth begins to assume the direction of his 
own destiny. A solemn problem is now te be 
solved, of which, perhaps, he seems to be unconsci- 
ous. He is to come within reach of influences 
which will prepare him for heroic action, or consign 
him to contempt. His strength will be tested by 
temptations, from which he will either rise victori- 
ous and stronger than before, or under which he 
will sink to the dust, it may be to rise no more. It 
is most important that he should bow to the yoke 
at the very period when he is most impatient of 
restraint. His welfare demands that in every thing 
which he does he should have reference to the future, 
when the present is most likely to absorb his whole 
attention. Passion is strongest when the judgment 
is weakest. Habits are gradually, almost unconsci- 
ously formed, of which he little suspects the strength 
and the permanence. Through what an ordeal must 
every human being pass, who fills up on earth the 
measure of his days ! And what a mysterious arrange- 
ment it is, that the final destiny of man should be 
so dependent upon the wayward determinations of 
that period of life, when the exercise of moral choice 
seems to be least regarded ! There are, indeed, many 



10 FORMATION OF CHARACTER. 

who in a measure recover themselves after a youth 
of sin, and return to their right mind. — Thanks be 
to Grod, there is no possible exigency this side the 
grave for which the gospel does not provide ; it can 
find -a seat in heaven for him who, in the latest hour, 
truly repents, and turns from his iniquity, although 
indeed it must of necessity be a low and humble 
place ; but, never in this world, and probably not in 
the next, can that man ever recover the advantage 
he has lost, who has forfeited the priceless blessing 
of early discipline and restraint. What agonies of 
memory will ever and anon visit him who looks 
back upon a youth defiled by corruption, and stained 
either with secret or open sin ! How sad the retro- 
spect, if he has been the agent of communicating 
moral poison to the souls of others ! How horrible 
the thought, that the sin, of which perhaps he has 
long ago repented in dust and ashes, still lives in its 
baneful influence, and still propagates the seeds of 
misery and death ! What darkness and gloom must 
such reflections as these sometimes cast over the 
prospect of the future; and what earthly sacrifice 
would not be cheerfully made, if that sinful past 
could only be recalled, and these melancholy recol- 
lections blotted from the mind ! My young friends, 
there are many Christian men, who would be 
glad to give you all the wealth which they have 



FORM ATION OF CHARACTER. . Jl 

earned by a long life of labor, and all the honors 
with which the world has crowned them, just to 
recover the vantage-ground whereon you stand to- 
night, and possess again the opportunities of self- 
restraint and discipline, which perhaps you estimate 
so lightly. Will you not learn a lesson from their 
bitter experience? Will you not learn a lesson from 
the darker doom of those who have never been 
rescued from the sins of their youth; some of whom 
have already gone down to an inglorious grave, and 
some of whom still live, to burden the earth and 
corrupt society? You little know how many anx- 
ious thoughts follow your footsteps. You do not 
hear the burning prayers that go up to heaven on 
your behalf. You walk in slippery places. Evil 
spirits and evil men lay their snares to entrap your 
soul. Infernal songs are warbled in your ear, to 
lure you to destruction. A foolish pride makes you 
careless of the voice of warning. You do not know 
your own weakness. Jesus comes near to offer you 
His help, and you reject His aid. 0, this is as 
unwise as it is ungrateful. You will never need the 
aid of religion as much as you do now. Eeject that 
aid now, and it may be in vain for you to seek it 
hereafter. Your destiny may be early sealed — it 
may be early sealed, even though life be long pro- 
tracted. The habit of sin now formed may become 



12 .FORMATION OF CHARACTER. 

permanent. And this is, in itself, the sealing up 
of destiny. 

" It is good for a man that he bear the yoke in his 
youth." The great purpose of our mortal existence 
is the formation of character. We are placed in 
this world for a short season, that we may here indi- 
cate what are our leading moral tendencies ; and so 
our fitness be shown for this or the other condition 
of being hereafter, when our real and permanent 
life begins. The decision of this momentous ques- 
tion depends upon the manner of our discipline; 
upon the use which we make of our faculties, and 
the degree of our resistance of temptation. And I 
now wish to show you the importance of entering 
upon this discipline in early life, before the evil days 
come when the affections are vitiated, and the reason 
is clouded, and the will is broken by long indul- 
gence in sin. 

The season of youth is one in which some species 
of character must be developed and formed, and 
that with peculiar rapidity. It is the age of impress- 
ibility and activity. It is then that the current of 
thought and feeling takes its direction, and though it 
may not flow with the same broad sweep and heavy 
volume as afterwards, it rushes with more rapidity. 
Every thing with which the youth comes in contact, 
impresses him more sensibly than ever again; his 



FORMATION OF CHARACTER. 13 

sensibilities are more acute, his opinions more easily 
swayed, his volitions more spontaneous; he is more 
plastic for either good or bad impressions, than he 
will be in his maturity. It is the formative period 
of existence, and viewed in this light, it is the most 
critical and eventful. The characters which are then 
inscribed upon the soul are rarely obliterated in 
time, and may not be in eternity. Perhaps they 
are written carelessly, as we trace random lines in 
the sand, but presently the soft surface hardens into 
stone, and there lies the inscription, to be read for 
ages. How differently would the young regard the 
processes of thought and feeling to which they are 
daily subjected, if they could appreciate the full 
bearing of this inward experience upon the future! 
"With how much greater vigilance w r ould they watch 
the avenues to their heart, if they knew how long 
the guests admitted there would hold possession^, 
and what power they would exercise after effecting 
an entrance! "I will yield to this or that indul- 
gence," says the young man, heedlessly, "and after 
a w r hile I will recover myself, and walk more cir- 
cumspectly." Does he consider what an injury he 
does to his moral being, not only through the actual 
defilement of the sin, but also by impairing his 
power of resistance, and inducing debility of will? 
Does he consider that every time he yields to tempt- 
2 



14 FORMATION OF CHARACTER. 

ation, lie takes one further step towards the forma- 
tion of a habit, and that after a time habit will 
become his master, — a master whose command will 
be irresistible? Does he consider that what he does 
at first with shame and reluctance, he will afterwards 
do without reluctance, as a mere thing of course, 
and with a torpid conscience ? Eemember this great 
principle: every act and every thought of youth is 
a seed cast into the ground, of whose fruit you must 
reap hereafter. Nothing which you now do termi- 
nates with the act ; it will germinate and bear fruit 
after its kind. You are engaged in the great work 
of framing your destiny ; and what that destiny is 
to be, may be determined in a few short years. 
Those years are rushing by you like the swift arrow, 
and very soon they will be only a part of your past 
history. They will then be to you full either of 
pleasant or of mournful recollections; and you will 
be either enjoying the repose which follows a youth 
of holiness, or the misery which must, be induced 
by a youth of iniquity. 0, look forward a little, 
before you plunge into the present !" 

"It is good for a man that he bear the yoke in his 
youth," because, notwithstanding all the peculiar 
dangers of this period of life, it is easier to begin a 
course of moral discipline then, than it ever can be 
afterward. You have this eminent advantage, that 



FORMATION OF CHARACTER. 15 

you arc not yet manacled by long habits of sin. As 
far as a fallen being can be free, your power of 
choice is still unimpaired. Eesistance cannot now be 
made without effort; the very nature of moral dis- 
cipline involves painful struggle, but the effort will 
be slighter, and be more likely to prove successful, 
than if it be deferred. Your will is now elastic; 
every year of indulgence will impair its vigor Your 
conscience is now sensitive ; if its motions be checked, 
by and by it will become inert. Your understand- 
ing is now bright and unclouded; shut out the light 
of truth, and soon it will be tarnished and corroded. 
Your heart is now comparatively free from taint; 
but, unless you keep your heart with all diligence, 
it will become like a cage of unclean birds. Surely 
there is nothing gained by delaying this work of 
discipline: on the contrary, it would appear as 
though it could he deferred only at great hazard. 
It will tax your powers severely enough, whenever 
it be undertaken; it is no slight matter for such 
creatures as we are to enter into combat with the 
powers of evil. We have inherited a nature which 
is, in many respects, in sympathy with the prince 
of darkness, and its perverted passions are ready to 
second his foul suggestions. There is also implanted 
in this nature a conscience, by which we know right 
from wrong, and there are aspirations and affections 



IQ FORMATION OF CHARACTER. 

still left there, which point us to something better 
than sinful pleasure, and more permanent than this 
fleeting world. Between these two contradictory 
elements of our being, there must be collision, and 
in the fact of this collision, rests our hope of deliv- 
erance from the baser propensities of our nature. 
But, as this contest advances, if the nobler powers 
of our being do not soon begin to get the mastery, 
they gradually lose their vigor, while the enemy 
gains strength by every victory. Such is our fallen 
constitution that, just in proportion as one party is 
weakened, the other increases in power, not only in 
virtue of the territory which is acquired by con- 
quest, but also by the growth of essential interior 
strength. There may come a time, when all that 
seemed to promise us deliverance from the tyranny 
of sin, ceases to make further opposition, and then 
for a while there may be peace in the soul ; then we 
enjoy the world, then we can be merry without 
restraint, then we can give free play to every fond 
desire, then youth may slide by in dance and song, 
and maturity be only the perpetuation of youth, and 
old age the period of grateful repose after excite- 
ment, and then Let us go up into yonder dark- 
ened chamber, before we proceed further. There is 
lying on this bed, a white-haired old man; his pro- 
bation is over, and the portals of another world are 



FORMATION OF CHARACTER 17 

opening to admit him. Look at him for a moment, 
while we recall the history of his probation. It 
seems but yesterday that he bounded into the arena 
to run the race of life, with an elastic step, and a 
sunny brow, his clear voice ringing cheerily in the 
air, and his eye flashing with the excitement of high 
hope. From the common experiences of boyhood, 
he passed on to the period of more advanced youth, 
and then began the eventful contest between the 
evil that was in his nature, and the good which sum- 
moned him to overcome that evil. No peculiar 
temptation beset him but such as is common to manj 
and had he been willing to endure the temporary 
pain which was needed, in order to his spiritual dis- 
cipline, and bend his heart to the yoke of God's 
law, the victory over corruption might have been 
triumphantly accomplished. He was fully conscious 
that this discipline was needful, he knew that it 
ought to be regarded as the grand business of life, 
but it demanded a sacrifice which it was hard for 
youth to make; and thinking that time would make 
that trial less, he resolved to enjoy the pleasures of 
sin for a season. Thus, without any outbreak of 
iniquity, without greatly offending man, or any loss 
of reputation, he glided on to the season of maturity. 
But the great internal conflict with the heart's cor- 
ruption, the stern discipline of the soul, to which. 
2* 



|8 FORMATION OF CHARACTER. 

God imperatively calls every human being who 
would see His face in peace, remained undetermined. 
He was not tit to die, and he knew that he was not, 
and shrunk from death; but then that dread event 
seemed to him no nearer now than it did in his 
youth, and neither did it seem to him any easier to 
crucify the natural desires of his heart. And so he 
glided on to old age, the fires of earthly passion 
gradually smouldering, the energy of evil seeming 
to decay, but, alas! with no correspondent revival 
of the energies of virtue. The powers of darkness 
may appear to have left the field, but it is because 
they have won the field, and the day is theirs. All 
is over now, and the aged man is about to leave the 
world, the work left undone for which he was sent 
into the world. Had such an end been foretold him 
in his youth, as the certain result of such delay as 
he then meditated, he would sooner have plucked 
out his right eye, and cut off his right hand — he 
would have stretched his body on the rack, or given 
himself to the flames — rather than have delayed for 
one hour the submission of his soul to God. But 
now that his hour has come, and the sun is setting, 
he endures no agony; for the capacity to suffer is 
gone, his rnoral nature is benumbed, his intellect is 
clouded ; and without a fear, without a hope, without 
a thought of the past or of the future, he passes 



FORMATION OF CHARACTER, 



19 



from his probation to his recompense. It is a quiet 
end, if indeed it were the end; but if there be any 
thins to come after, if there must be a reckoning, 
if there must be a destiny hereafter correspondent 
to the character,— for the sake of such a life, would 
you be willing to die such a death? 

My friends, the great danger to which you are 
exposed is that of forgetting how important it is 
that }'ou should bear the yoke in your youth. You 
cannot but know that your soul needs to be disci- 
plined, that there are affections in }~ou which ought 
to be crucified, a pride which ought to be chastened, 
an obedience which ought to be rendered. But 
instead of commencing this great work now, in the 
exercise of a calm and intelligent determination to 
enter upon the service of God, and consecrate to 
II im all your powers, you prefer to wait till some 
terrible calamity force you to a decision, or the 
nearer prospect of death seems to render a decision 
more imperative. I do not say that such a period 
will never arrive, and such a result never occur; 
but I tell you that, if it does, } 7 ou will then most 
bitterly regret that you ever resolved to wait till 
3 r ou were scourged to your duty. If it shall be Grod's 
will to save you, by any future process of agony, 
you may well be thankful for the discipline. But is 
it not wiser to forefend that dire necessity? I have 



20 FORMATION OF CHARACTER. 

spoken to-night only of the pain which must attend 
that struggle with the flesh to which you are called ; 
but I might also speak of the blessedness and peace 
which follow, even in this life, the triumph of faith 
and holiness. "Heaviness may endure for a night, 
but joy cometh in the morning." Bend your neck 
to the yoke of Christ in your youth, and you will 
soon find that "his yoke is easy, and his burden light." 



LECTURE II 



TRUE PRINCIPLES OF TRADE. 



Psa.lm civ. 23. — Man goeth forth to his work, and to his labor, 
until the evening. 

This is a brief epitome of the life of man — "he 
goeth forth to his work, and to his labor, until the 
evening." It may be labor of the hand, or of 
the head — the toil of the husbandman, of the arti- 
san, of the merchant, of the physician, or of the advo- 
cate, it is labor still — "in the sweat of his brow man 
eats his daily bread." It would have been perfectly 
easy for the Creator to have established an entirely 
different constitution of things. The earth might 
have brought forth spontaneously abundance for man 
and beast; in the same field, there might have been 
in continual action the various processes of germin- 
ation and of ripening — the blossom and the fruit 
might have hung upon the same stalk, and all that 
the hungry would have had to do, would be to walk 
forth in the great garden of nature, and pluck, and 
be satisfied. Thus, there would have been no voca- 
tion for him who tills the ground. There might 



22 TRUE PRINCIPLES OF TRADE. 

have been no alternation of heat and cold, but one 
eternal spring-time of soft breezes and fresh verdure ; 
so that there would have been no necessity for any 
shelter from the scorching sunbeams, or any protec- 
tion from the icy gales of the north. The artificer 
would thus have had no employment, and the sound 
of the hammer would not have been heard amongst 
us. Every land might have yielded all the comforts 
and luxuries which the earth is capable of producing, 
and there would have been no occasion for exchang- 
ing the products of various countries, no necessity 
for trade and commerce. The occupation of the 
merchant would thus have been entirely suspended. 
There might have been no exposure to sickness, and 
therefore no call for the physician : there might have 
been no crime, and therefore no demand fbr legal 
interference and judicial decisions. But we live 
under a very different dispensation. God has stamped 
it upon the constitution of things, that he who would 
live, must labor. This was the sentence passed 
upon fallen man. But, mark! how that sentence is 
tempered with mercy. Taking man as he is, with 
all his frailties, and living as he does, in such a 
world as this, so full of temptations, it was the most 
merciful doom to which he could have been sen- 
tenced. Employment is essential, in order to the 
purity, the happiness, and the well-being of our 



TRUE PRINCIPLES OF TRADE. 23 

race. It is a -universal fact, that those nations which 
have the least to do, the fewest wants, the faintest calls 
to exertion, the lowest degree of enterprise, stand the 
lowest in the scale of intelligence and virtue. Indo- 
lence is the mother of misery and vice. Thorns 
and briars will cover, with their rank growth, the 
uncultivated soil of the human heart. Satan takes 
immediate possession of all the territory which he 
finds unappropriated. 

Now it is common to regard the ordinary busi- 
ness of life as being, of necessity, in itself, a hind- 
rance in the way of spiritual improvement — as directly 
antagonistic to the great work of preparation for 
eternity. If a man is a Christian, he is supposed 
to become so, in defiance of the influences and asso- 
ciations connected with his secular calling. The 
business of time is thought to be one thing, and 
that of eternity another and an entirely distinct con- 
cern. Religion is exhibited as something peculiar 
to the sanctuary, and the closet, and the sick-bed, 
and the Sabbath; but as having nothing to do in 
the making of a bargain, in the settlement of 
accounts, in contracts and bonds; nothing to do in 
the work-shop,, the office, and the compting-house. 
An unnatural divorce between religion and the ordi- 
nary business of life has been declared — what Grod 
had joined together, man has taken the liberty to 



24 TRUE PRINCIPLES OF TRADE. 

put asunder. And what is the consequence? Men 
are called Christians, because, on stated occasions, 
they can be solemn, and lift up their voice in prayer 
and exhortation, whilst their neighbors hardly dare 
to trust their word in the ordinary transactions of 
life — they are accounted holy on one day in seven, 
and are allowed to grind the face of the poor, with- 
out let or hindrance, the remainder of the week. 
In that solemn day, when the secrets of every cham- 
ber of business shall be laid open, what revelations 
will be made ! 

Now, we take the position, not only that the pur- 
suits of secular business may be consistent with a 
strictly holy life, but that they may and should be 
made, directly and positively to advance the glory of 
God, and man's eternal well-being. I do not believe 
that God would have made it indispensably neces- 
sary for us to labor in order to live, and at the same 
time have so ordered it, that our labor must be an 
impediment in the way of our salvation. What is 
it but our daily life, the transactions which fill up the 
hours of the week, that forms and fixes our charac- 
ter? And what is the great object of our Sunday 
services, but just to give a right direction to our feel- 
ings and principles in the conduct and duties of our 
ordinary vocation? 

I shall now set forth what we consider essential to 



TRUE PRINCIPLES OF TRADE. 25 

the proper ordering of your secular business; and may 
God give me grace to put this matter clearly and 
faithfully before you ! 

In the first place, I would observe, that you should 
be engaged in an honest calling. Upon this point, 
but little need be said. All business is honest and 
honorable, which tends to increase the general wel- 
fare of the community. All who, by manual labor, 
produce that which the public needs — or, by the 
operations of trade, extend the necessaries of life — 
or, in the pursuits of commerce, introduce into the 
land those supplies which the exigences of the coun- 
try demand, are alike occupied in a worthy and 
creditable calling. I would not even exclude those 
who are engaged in the production of what might 
be styled the luxuries of life. Within a certain 
restriction, these are to be regarded only as indica- 
tive of a refined civilization. And it is impossible 
to define the limit where necessity ends and luxury 
begins : what you would consider as an indispensable 
comfort, the untutored savage would deem an exu- 
berant superfluity. 

But all business is to be considered as dishonest 
and discreditable which has the necessary tendency 
to produce evil in the community; or, in which, 
there is no counterbalancing good, as an offset to 
the incidental mischief. A man is not to regard 
3 



26 TRUE PRINCIPLES OF TRADE. 

simply his own individual benefit, reckless of the 
fact that he may be "casting forth firebrands, arrows, 
and death," into the midst of society. He is not at 
liberty to be indifferent as to the results of his labor 
and traffic; he is, in a degree, responsible for those 
results. He is not accountable for the perversion 
of that which he has conscientiously and in good 
faith produced for the public good ; provided he has 
taken all possible precautions against such perver- 
sion. Consider, by way of illustration, the manu- 
facture and sale of poisons: these are indispensable 
in certain processes of art, and form an important 
item in the materia medica, but they may be used by 
the murderer and the suicide. If the poison is made 
with a view to the destruction of life, or if it is 
vended without the exercise of due care to guard 
against so deplorable a use, heavy guilt rests upon 
the head of those engaged in this manufacture and 
sale ; but not otherwise, however terrible the results 
produced by the deadly drug. If a man sees that 
his business is carrying beggary and ruin into fami- 
lies, sees that this is its inevitable result, and can 
perceive no great and paramount good which it pro- 
duces, he ought to know that his is a dishonest voca- 
tion, for persisting in which, God will one day visit 
him with heavy indignation.. However rich may be 
his gains, they are dearly purchased; for he pays 



TRUE PRINCIPLES OF TRADE. 27 

for tliem at the price of his immortal soul ! Those 
whom he has ruined will rise up against him at the 
last day, and demand his condemnation ! 

I pass now, in the second place, to the assertion 
that your business should not only be an honest and 
creditable calling, but it should be honestly conducted. 

It is no violation of this principle, that you should 
make use of your superior knowledge and keen fore- 
sight for your own advantage. Wisdom and skill 
are entitled to their reward ; and there would be no 
propriety in putting the enterprising and the indo- 
lent, the well-informed and the ignorant, the wise 
man and the fool, upon the same level. If, by long 
and careful study of the markets, you have been led 
to the conclusion that certain results are likely to 
follow from certain contingences, I see no reason 
why, in a given case, you should announce your 
opinion to all your neighbors, before entering into 
any negotiations with them; for they have the same 
facilities with yourself for forming a judgment in the 
matter, and, after all, you may be mistaken. 

But I would consider it a palpable violation of 
honesty, to allow another to complete a bargain with 
me, when I knew that he was acting under an entire 
misconception. If, in such a case, I refuse to speak 
— if I know of a defect in that which he proposes 
to purchase, of which he is ignorant, and neglect to 



28 TRUE PRINCIPLES OF TRADE. 

give him information, I stand convicted of dishon- 
esty as truly as though I had told him a direct and 
positive lie. 

Or, again, if I take advantage of his ignorance, 
and sell him a sound article for more than its mar- 
ketable value ; I stand, in the sight of Heaven, con- 
victed of falsehood. That the article may fall in 
value to-morrow, and I have cause to think it prob- 
able that this will be the fact, is another matter — for 
he has the same opportunity to anticipate this that 
I have; it is mere opinion at the best, and I am 
liable to be deceived. I am bound to tell him what 
I know, but not what I conjecture. 

It is dishonest to take advantage of another's mis- 
fortune, to drive a hard bargain with him. It is 
ungenerous, as well as dishonest : it is afflicting those 
whom Grod has already afflicted; it is making the 
cup more bitter than He intended it should be ; it is 
trampling upon the fallen, and injuring the defence- 
less. It is not a crime which man can visit upon 
your head,' save with the verdict of his scorn and 
contempt; and you may say that you have a right 
to do as you will with your own, and secure for 
yourself as liberal a profit as you please. You have 
no such right! God is above, you, and to him you 
are accountable ! Civil law may have no hold upon 
you; you may escape the dungeon and the halter j 



TRUE PRINCIPLES OF TRADE. 29 

but the law of Heaven will reach you, and you can- 
not escape the damnation of hell! Listen to this, 
ye who devour widows' houses, and swallow up the 
orphan's pittance; ye may, for a pretence, make 
long prayers, but therefore ye shall receive the greater 
damnation! The cry of those whom you have 
spoiled, has gone up to heaven, and has entered into 
the ears of the Lord of Sabaoth ; and your hour of 
reckoning will come! Alas for you, when the judg- 
ment shall be set! 

But, once more, it is dishonest to contract liabili- 
ties, without a reasonable prospect of being able to 
meet your obligations. There is reason to fear, that 
this principle of Christian morality has, of late years, 
been sadly neglected. In view of the fluctuations 
of trade, there cannot always exist . a positive cer- 
tainty, in contracting debts, of your ability to pay 
them when they become due — the most prudent and 
careful are liable to be disappointed. There is one 
principle, however, which, if faithfully applied to 
the case in question, would exonerate us from all 
blame, let the result be as it might: ask yourself 
this question, "Would the party with whom I now 
propose to form this contract be willing to proceed, 
if he were fully apprised of all the circumstances of 
my present situation? would he consider it safe and 
expedient to complete this negotiation?" If you 
3* 



30 TRUE PRINCIPLES OF TRADE. 

feel that, if you stood in his place, and lie in yours, 
you would not hesitate to do it, you may go forward 
with a quiet conscience; and then, if misfortunes 
render it impossible for you to meet your liabili- 
ties, though your notes may be dishonored, your 
own character stands unimpeached before earth and 
heaven. But, how it can be looked upon as any 
thing less than fraud, for one who knows himself to 
be on the eve of bankruptcy, to abuse his neighbor's 
confidence, and obtain from him temporary loans, 
when there is scarcely the shadow of a hope that 
those loans will ever be returned, it is difficult to 
understand. And, still further, we must consider 
that it leans very strongly towards dishonesty, for 
one to be careless and indifferent as to the discharge 
of his obligations. It is not right to be lax in the 
collecting of your dues; for if you do not receive 
your own, how can you discharge what you owe to 
others? All with whom you have any dealings 
have a righteous claim upon you to be systematic, 
prompt, and punctual in all the arrangements of your 
business: no pains should be spared, in order to 
understand the precise position of you affairs — you 
are not at liberty to be ignorant in this matter. It 
is poor consolation to those who may be injured 
through your carelessness, for you to plead that you 
were not aware how precarious was your situation • 



TRUE PRINCIPLES OF TRADE. 31 

there are cases in whicli sucli ignorance is a crime. 
If the welfare of none but yourself and your own 
family were concerned, it would be criminal, for you 
have no right to do an injury to yourself; but the 
offence is greatly magnified, when it is remembered 
that others, and how many you cannot tell, may also 
become sufferers. 

Perhaps it is hardly necessary for me to add, that 
the repudiation of honest debts, whether it be done 
by states, or corporations, or individuals, is nothing 
better than constructive theft. And, it matters little, 
whether this doctrine be openly and plainly avowed, 
or practically acted upon — it is, to all intents, fla- 
grant and shameless robbery. There is no one thing 
. which has so impaired the moral tone of this coun- 
try, within the last few years, as the dishonest system 
of political financiering, which has, to an alarming 
extent, prevailed amongst us. If the civil officer is 
at liberty to squander the public monies entrusted 
to his keeping, and the full retribution of the law is 
not allowed to descend upon his guilty head; what 
is to hinder the private individual from wasting the 
orphan's pittance committed to his trust? If states 
may repudiate their righteous obligations, why may 
not the citizen disavow the just claims resting upon 
him? Do not say that this topic has no proper 
place in the pulpit — that the minister of religion is 



32 TRUE PRINCIPLES OF TRADE. 

not qualified to give instruction upon such matters, 
because lie does not mingle in the strifes, and diffi- 
culties, and emulations of business — that he cannot 
tell what is, and what is not practicable. If he com- 
prehends the duties of his vocation, he is competent 
to the exposition of those great principles of right 
and wrong, which are independent of all circum- 
stances; and may not the very fact, that he is re- 
moved from the agitations of trade, the better qual- 
ify him impartially to apply, to specific cases, those 
eternal and unalterable principles of rectitude which 
God has established? 

How is it that the public conscience has been so 
far blinded and led astray on this important subject? 
It has been too commonly assumed as a necessary 
evil, inwrought into the very texture of modern 
trade, that deception, at least in some of its lighter 
forms, must be practised. There are those who pro- 
fess to believe that the absence of strict and open- 
hearted honesty is universal. They seem to recog- 
nise it as an established fact, that every man will 
take such advantage as prudence and safety will 
allow. They resolve all business into a mere contest 
of shrewdness, in which the more cunning get the 
victory. The universality of fraud, they consider, 
in a great measure lightens its criminality; and they 
thus quiet their conscience under the conviction of 



TRUE PRINCIPLES OF TRADE. 33 

guilt by saying, "I am as fair as my neighbor, and 
I must do as lie does or starve." We would say, then, 
in reply, " Starve! it is not indispensable that you 
should live, but it is indispensable, while you do 
live, that you should live honestly." If the facts 
were as these people suppose, their sin would be 
none the less heinous; the eternal principles of 
moral rectitude are not affected by circumstances. 
But, unless his interest and his own propensities to 
fraud obscure his perception, who is there that really 
believes that all honor and honesty are extinct in 
the trading world? Disposed as we are to probe 
the whole evil most thoroughly, we are equally 
indisposed to represent the evil as any worse than 
it really is. It is always mischievous to overstate 
the prevalence and the virulence of any social vice. 
Those who are inclined to the practice of that vice, 
take great comfort in the thought that so many are 
in the same condemnation with themselves. And 
therefore while we believe that a loose commercial 
conscience is one of the most crying sins of the day, 
we would reject the thought with indignation, that 
the great mass of our citizens are chargeable with 
fraud. There are thousands of our merchants, who 
would sooner delve in some honorable ditch for a 
scanty ration of bread, than soil their hands with 
touching a dollar earned by dishonest or doubtful 



34 TRUE PRINCIPLES OF TRADE. 

practices. And they look down with supreme con- 
tempt upon the serpent-like, cunning creatures about 
them, who leave their slimy track wherever they 
crawl, eating gold-dust all the days of their life, and 
hoping to thrive upon it. The main difficulty is, 
that their scorn is not more distinctly expressed; 
for, as we would remark, in the second place, the 
passive tolerance extended to successful fraud, oper- 
ates as a premium upon dishonesty. The offend- 
er's reputation is measurably injured, but his social 
position is not materially affected ; men continue to 
deal with him, credit is extended to him, he is not 
ruined. Unless he trespass beyond a certain limit, 
no prison cell awaits him, no forfeiture of property 
punishes hirn, even posts of honor and trust are not 
shut against him. Others are, perhaps, a little 
more cautious in their dealings with him, look more 
carefully into his securities, are not inclined to treat 
him with much confidence; and yet, without mean- 
ing to participate in his crimes, his name remains 
upon their books, and he has all the benefit of being 
known to deal with honest men. There are certain 
forms of crime, which can be punished only at the 
tribunal of public opinion. It is a somewhat dan- 
gerous judge, for it may render its verdict before it 
has examined into the case, and yet it cannot alto- 
gether be spared. When the facts are notorious, 



TRUE PRINCIPLES OF TRADE. 35 

and the crime is flagrant, and still the hand of the 
law is powerless to punish, then society, for its own 
protection, should withdraw its fellowship from the 
offender, so far at least as to make him feel that the 
mark is on his brow and infamy dogs his footsteps. 
Virtue and vice should not receive the same treat- 
ment at your hands ; there is a moral instinct which 
forbids it, and which would be sure to prevent it, 
did not our selfish interest intervene! Here is the 
trouble to which we would direct your attention; 
honorable men find that it subserves their interest 
sometimes to deal with the dishonorable, not that for 
worlds they would participate in crime, but in the 
fair and ordinary course of business they will not 
decline to deal with one whom they know to be base 
and fraudulent. They say, they are not responsible 
for his character, and have no right to question it. 
This is true; but if the evil reputation of the man 
be notorious, and no one doubts that he is a scoun- 
drel, does it not become all fair and high-minded 
citizens to avoid that man, and let him alone? It is 
a soft ointment to his conscience that you are willing 
to deal with him, it encourages others to imitate his 
foul practices, and it is worth considering whether 
you yourselves can touch pitch, and* not be some- 
what defiled. 
In the next place we attribute the prevailing rnal- 



36 TRUE PRINCIPLES OF TRADE. 

practices in business to the want of a well-balanced 
and comprehensive system of morality. There are 
certain antiquated notions of chivalric honor, which, 
defective as they were, had no small virtue in them. 
Too little is now made of what may be called the 
minor morals. Yery much is done for the extirpa- 
tion of great and obvious vices, not too much, this 
would be impossible. But there is a class of evils, 
the development of the lower and meaner elements 
of human nature, which excite comparatively little 
attention. This is a striking defect in the ethics of 
the age. If our limits allowed, we might show how 
it operates to produce a general deterioration of 
character, even where what are called the great 
enterprises of reform are in most vigorous action: 
the ravages of the sweeping plague may be arrested ; 
but, meanwhile, various petty diseases of an annoy- 
ing and revolting type are ulcerating the heart of 
society. We are, however, at present concerned 
with this topic, only as it bears upon the existing 
tendency to fraudulent dealing. That tender rever- 
ence for truth, without which no real moral elevation 
can be attained, is now sadly wanting; it is vio- 
lated for political, for philanthropical, and for selfish 
ends. The editor, the declaimer, and the trader 
may not be ready to say what they know to be 
untrue; but they utter freely what they do not 



TRUE PRINCIPLES OF TRADE. 37 

know to be true. In this respect, there is a most 
lamentable laxity of conscience. And nothing tends 
more certainly to unsettle the very foundations of 
virtue than this. Here we have reached the semi- 
nal principle of all the commercial evils which 
afflict and degrade society. It costs man a severer 
moral struggle to tell a deliberate lie, than it does to 
break any other precept of the moral code. This 
done, almost any other violation of rectitude follows 
easily and naturally. The offender feels himself to be 
so degraded, that nothing can sink him any deeper in 
infamy. It is a known fact that a man will commit 
many revolting crimes, and yet have too much con- 
science left to deny them when charged upon him.. 
Before leaving this part of our subject, we must be 
allowed so far to digress from the main topic of this, 
lecture, as to ask the question, whether, in our 
popular religious teaching, there has not been a 
great defect in respect of the application of the fun- 
damental doctrines of the Gospel to specific points, 
of casuistry? May not the want of symmetry and. 
comprehensiveness in the practical morality of the 
times be attributed to this cause? Growing out of 
this defect, there is a strange want of discrimination 
in our ethics; cases of conscience, so termed, are 
settled by technical and conventional rules, instead 
of being tested by the eternal and unalterable prin-. 
4 



39 TRUE PRINCIPLES OF TRADE. 

ciples of right and justice. It is not asked, what 
has Grod said? but, what will man say? How will 
my standing in the world be affected, rather than, 
where shall I be found at the bar of final judgment? 

We now pass to our third and last position, which 
is, that your secular business should not only be hon- 
est, and honestly conducted m r but also, that the acquisi- 
tion of wealth should be considered as secondary and 
subordinate to loftier and higher ends of being. The 
process of money-getting is of more importance than 
the getting of money. That process may be such that, 
while we are gathering in the treasures of this world, 
at the same time we are securing the priceless riches 
of heaven ; or, it may be so conducted, that we are 
preparing to reap the wages of eternal death. None 
of the transactions in which you are daily occupied, 
but has a bearing upon your everlasting welfare. 

What would be the effect of the general recogni- 
tion of this fact? Its influence would be, first, to 
check that excessive devotion to secular pursuits, that 
idolatry of Mammon, which is too characteristic of 
our age and country. When mind and body are 
overtasked with labour, and all our time and ener- 
gies are expended upon the toils of business — we 
have neither opportunity nor inclination to cultivate 
the higher affections of our being ; the soul becomes 
cankered and worm-eaten,, the calls of humanity are 



TRUE PRINCIPLES OF TRADE. 39 

unheeded, and God is forgotten. It is an unhealthy 
life, and the immortal part sickens and dies. And 
whenever simple gain is made the ultimate end of 
action, this result is almost inevitable. Every thing 
is regarded merely with a view to the inquiry, "how 
can it be made subservient to my worldly interest?" 
Every moment is looked upon as wasted, which is 
not devoted to "buying and selling- and getting 
gain." And when the desired result is attained, 
"what profit has the man of all his labor that he 
has taken under the sun?" 

And again, the influence of the principles which 
we have suggested, would be to quench the mad spirit 
of speculation, which has raged so furiously about us. 
God intended that, day after day, "man should go 
forth to his work, and to his labor, until the even- 
ing;" that, by a gradual, and prudent, and regular 
process of toil, he should be at once earning his 
bread, and disciplining himself for heaven. But, 
when the ordinary routine of business is neglected, 
and men are casting about for some brilliant specu- 
lation, by which they may become rich in a day, 
the whole purpose of God is defeated. There is 
nothing of that discipline of patience, that trial of 
principle, that trustful waiting upon God for his 
blessing upon our dealings, which is often experi- 
enced in the staid and sober process of regular and 



40 TRUE PRINCIPLES OF TRADE. 

systematic business. Men are suddenly plunged 
from the fever heat of expectation, into the icy 
waters of disappointed hope: now the brain reels 
with the intoxication of splendid success, and now 
it is stunned by the heavy blow of utter defeat: 
to-day, they count themselves so increased in goods, 
that the rest of life may be passed in luxury and 
ease; to-morrow, they are dependant on others for 
the bread they eat. Is such a state of things as this 
to be desired? is it such a life as is likely to fit man 
for heaven? to make his conscience more acute, his 
principles more firm, his mind more susceptible of 
holy impressions? And how are the community at 
large affected by such a condition of business? Is 
society profited, is any thing added to the stock of 
common good? These questions have already been 
answered, in the sad and painful experience of the 
last ten years. Let the dismantled mansions of 
those, once opulent, but now reduced to penury, 
answer. Let the wasted stores of the fatherless 
answer. that men would remember, that spas- 
modic prosperity is sure to be followed with the 
blight of adversity! There is an equilibrium in 
nature, which must be preserved, — the never-ceasing 
breezes and the flowing rivers are continually mov- 
ing to produce this balance ; and so it is in the world 
of business, every thing there, in time will find its level. 



TRUE PRINCIPLES OF TRADE. 41 

"What a change would come over the aspect of 
society, if the results of which we have now spoken 
could be realized! What security would be given 
to the operations of business ; with how much greater 
confidence could the young man enter upon the 
arena of trade — with how much greater pleasure 
would the aged look back upon their finished career ! 

Having been thus conscientious in the acquisition 
of wealth, how much better it would be enjoyed, 
when acquired, and how much better it would be 
used! The blessing of God would rest upon it; 
and as he was honored in the process by which it 
was attained, so he would be honored by the manner 
in which it would be distributed. How many sleep- 
less nights would be spared you in the season 
of your active business life! how many listless 
hours in the day of declining age ! Labor would be 
pleasant, and still repose would be sweet. Begin 
then your life with consecrating yourselves, with all 
your energies and all your acquisitions, to the ser- 
vice of Jesus. " Seek first the kingdom of God and 
his righteousness ; and all other things shall be added 
unto you." Let your life be such, that you will be 
willing to tell over in eternity, before the good 
angels of heaven, the whole story of your daily traf- 
fic, with all its successes and gains, with all its mis- 
fortunes and losses. Be more anxious to be rich in 
4* 



42 TRUE PRINCIPLES OF TRADE. 

good works, than in gold and silver coin : the former 
will follow you when you rest from your labors — 
the latter you must leave behind when you enter 
eternity. 



LECTURE III. 



AMUSEMENTS. 



Deuteronomy xxvi. 2. — Thou shalt rejoice in every good thing 
which the Lord thy God hath given unto thee. 

Whatever has an important bearing upon the 
formation of character is a proper subject of dis- 
course from the pulpit. And there are periods of 
life when few things leave such a positive impres- 
sion upon our whole physical and moral nature, as 
the style of our amusements. The earliest years of 
existence are devoted almost exclusively to recrea- 
tion: play is the child's work, and is the agency 
through which his bodily and mental faculties are 
developed. There is no fairer sight to be seen this 
side heaven, than the ruddy face and the sparkling 
eye of the child absorbed in sport ; as there is noth- 
ing more sad than the wan countenance and the 
drooping head of the little one, excluded by disease 
or penury from the joyous gayeties of childhood. 

But as life advances, we are gradually called away 
from this careless merriment, to prepare ourselves 



44 AMUSEMENTS. 

by study and toil for the sterner pursuits of man- 
hood. The interest which had been concentrated 
upon trifles must be transferred to sober realities, 
and discipline take the place of play. And soon 
the boy becomes a man, and is sent forth into the 
world to enter upon his vocation and grapple with 
his destiny. It is possible that, during the process 
of his transition from childhood to youth, there has 
been some oversight in his training, or exposure to 
some peculiar evil influence, or an excessive develop- 
ment of some dangerous passion, which unfits him for 
labor, when labor becomes his chief duty, and inclines 
him to make amusement his leading occupation. This 
being the case, he does not seek for reereation as a 
relief from toil, but as the business of his life. That, 
however, which pleased him as a child will not serve 
his purpose any longer, for there are passions ram- 
pant now which were once quiet, and the system 
craves after stronger stimulants. The recreation 
which in childhood was spontaneous, and therefore 
healthy, now becomes systematic and unwholesome. 
Once the time slipped away imperceptibly, and the 
day was not long enough for the sport : now it drags 
heavily, and the special object of the sport is to kill 
time. And that which accomplishes this to-day, will 
not suffice to-morrow; for any form of amusement 
always cloys when it is made a business. The appe- 



AMUSEMENTS. 45 

tite must be whetted with a racier stimulant, the 
bowl must be spiced more potently, the stake which 
is played for must be higher, the delirium must be 
more intense, to quicken the jaded energies of 
nature. In the beginning of this career, the young 
man devotes some portion of the day to his proper 
occupation; but this period is gradually contracted, 
as encroaching too much upon the season of his 
enjoyment And then his energies, both of mind 
and body, are becoming too enfeebled for labor, the 
springs of action are all corroded, and so he satisfies 
himself that labor is beneath his dignity. What 
strange notions of dignity sometimes take posses- 
sion of a vicious young man! He is ashamed to 
earn his bread, but he is not ashamed to eat that 
which others have earned for him. He would not 
like to be suspected of a good and self-denying 
action, but it is no compromise of his honor when 
he drops to the level of a brute. A degree of moral 
principle may survive within him, even after he 
would blush to own it; but in process of time, the 
very light that is in him becomes darkness. 

The fire of sin, raging thus without restraint, may 
speedily exhaust the principle of life, and he sinks 
into an early and an unhonored grave. Or, the 
body may drag on a weary existence, after the soul 
is withered, and for many years the earth may groan 



46 AMUSEMENTS. 

under the weight of this moral monster. Or, the 
hour of bitter repentance may come, and the brief 
season of sinful pleasure may be expiated by long 
years of agony. Whatever be the result, the bright- 
est portion of life has been wasted, and a moral 
injury been wrought, which in some respects must 
remain unrepaired for ever. The great purpose of 
youth has been utterly defeated. 

It is the occasional recurrence of such instances of 
early ruin as this, which has led to a natural associa- 
tion of amusement with vice; and the remedy pre- 
scribed by some, is to cut off the young man, as 
far as possible, from all sources of recreation, and 
endeavor to direct him to matters of more import- 
ance. I propose now to consider this whole subject 
with freedom and candor, beginning with the ques- 
tion — is there any thing in the constitution of our 
nature, which seems to demand some provision in 
the way of amusement and relaxation, or, is every 
thing of this sort derogatory to man and detrimental 
to his best interests? 

I think it may safely be assumed, that we are not 
sent into this world to be amused, and that, to make 
amusement of any description the prominent busi- 
ness of life, indicates a very soft brain and a very 
hard heart. The objects for which God called us 
into existence are manifold, but they all demand of 



AMUSEMENTS. 47 

us effort, labor, or the doing of something which it 
requires exertion to accomplish. Man is placed here 
on the earth for a few years, to prepare himself, 
through various processes of toil, for a higher and 
more permanent sphere. But then this great end is 
not most certainly secured by incessant and unre- 
mitted labor. For both body and mind will soon 
give way under such labor, and become altogether 
unserviceable. And it is not well that the task, 
which might, with proper intervals of repose, have 
occupied a life-time, should be all crowded into the 
compass of a few painful years. That man is not 
fulfilling his vocation to the best advantage, and 
obtaining the real, moral benefits of his labor, who 
devotes himself from sunrise till midnight to the 
excitement of business, or to severe and earnest 
study, or to any form of manual labor. The highest 
style of character is not to be formed in this way. 
And here we cannot forbear to suggest, whether the 
hours ordinarily devoted to business, are not more 
numerous than even the exigences of business re- 
quire? Could not the arrangements of trade be so 
readjusted, that the toil, which is now spread over 
all the day, and perhaps a good part of the night, 
might be compressed into a small compass; thus 
leaving time for other pursuits, which those who 
believe that man is endowed with an immortal soul, 



43 AMUSEMENTS. 

must allow to be as important as is the work of 
making money? Has there ever been a period in 
the history of the world, when such exclusive atten- 
tion has been given to mere secular business, as in 
the present: and is there another nation on the face 
of the globe, which takes the lead of us in this 
respect? 

It can hardly need a formal argument to show 
that nature forbids incessant toil: and I therefore 
pass on to observe, that the necessities of our being, 
demand not only rest from labor, but a reactive 
stimulus of some description, something in the shape 
of positive recreation. We are endowed with cer- 
tain faculties of enjoyment, which are liable to sad 
perversion like all other endowments, but which the 
Author of our being has implanted in us for some 
wise purpose. It may be said, that these faculties are 
ingrafted in our nature simply to be repressed: they 
exist only to be exterminated. Does God create 
any thing to be exterminated? Is this the lesson 
that is taught us in His works and His word? " There 
are certainly some passions in our nature," it is replied, 
"which ought to be extirpated." There are passions 
which should be corrected, because they have become 
perverted ; but there is not a natural endowment of 
our being — that is, a faculty implanted in us by our 
Maker — which is essentially evil. Every passion and 



AMUSEMENTS. 49 

propensity lias, for its original end, some good pur- 
pose: but when the internal harmony of our being 
is disturbed, — as, alas! it is universally, — and the 
lower faculties get the ascendancy over the higher, 
then sin follows, with all its shame and misery, 
infecting every power and affection of our nature. 

We find additional proof of the necessity of recre- 
ation, in the fact that nature provides so many 
sources of healthy amusement. There is the most 
beautiful correspondence between our interior tastes 
and the external objects towards which they are 
directed. There are gorgeous sights for the eye, 
and sweet melodies for the ear: in all its motions, 
in all its forms, in all its colors, in all its sounds, 
the external world seems to be constructed with spe- 
cial reference to our pleasure. Why is this so? la 
it merely to test our self-denial? And do we attain 
the highest style of character, when we turn away 
from all the unspotted enjoyments of life, imagining 
that there must be some merit simply in being mis- 
erable? Is mere suffering in itself pleasing and 
acceptable to God? Does he rejoice to see his crea- 
tures wretched ? Is not every Divine argument for 
holiness, enforced by the motive, that the holy shall 
be happy? "Thou shalt rejoice in every good thing 
which the Lord thy God hath given unto thee ; " and; 
this shall be your security against rejoicing in that 
5 



5() AMUSEMENTS. 

■which is unhallowed, and which therefore the Lord 
thy God hath not given thee. Pure and healthy- 
enjoyment will, of necessity, exclude what is impure 
and mischievous. He who is made happy by that 
which is innocent, would be made unhappy by that 
which is sinful. 

If, then, it may be taken for granted, that amuse- 
ment, as a relief from toil, is natural to man, and has 
a real use,, it may be instructive to look a little into 
the history of this matter, and see what lessons will 
be thus taught us. One fact at once arrests our 
notice: the style of popular amusement in any age 
or nation, is a certain indication of the prevailing 
moral and intellectual condition of the people. The 
stated festivals of Judea, with all their social joys, 
impressive services, and grand historical associa- 
tions; the athletic games of Greece, with their stern 
demand for physical discipline, their stirring rival- 
ries, and their laurel crowns; the gladiatorial com- 
bats of the Eoman amphitheatre, with their displays 
of heroic courage, patient endurance, and unflinch- 
ing death;, the flaunting processions of China, with 
their gilded lanterns, their tinkling bells, and all 
their sacred tinsel ; the solemn festivities of India, 
with their barbaric music, their funeral pyres, and 
their shrieking victims; the quaint Mysteries of 
Mediaeval Europe,, with the churches converted 



AMUSEMENTS. 51 

into play-houses, the priests into actors, and Bible- 
tales into dramas; the rough sports of Spain, the 
ecclesiastical pyrotechny of Italy, the simple, domes- 
tic games of Sweden, the bracing gymnastics of 
frozen Russia, the great music festivals of Germany, 
the luxurious operas of France, the grand, scientific 
exposition of England, and the absence of all national 
amusements in America, are indications of tempera- 
ment and character, which cannot be mistaken. 

There is another fact of equal importance to be 
noticed. Under the Jewish dispensation, the whole 
matter of public amusements was regulated by 
Divine enactment, and connected with the national 
ecclesiastical festivals. There were davs and years 
of jubilee, when all labor must be suspended; regu- 
lar reunions of scattered families and tribes at Jeru- 
salem ; consecrated feasts, in which the poorest par- 
took of the costliest luxuries; a yearly encampment 
of the whole people in tabernacles, adorned with the 
green palm-leaf, the myrtle, and the willow; when 
all the nation made merry before the Lord, and the 
sound of the timbrel was every where heard. One 
important lesson may be learned from these histori- 
cal facts. It is seen, that the necessity of recreation 
is founded in nature, and that amusements of some 
description are inevitable. Now, the question arises, 
is it wise to leave this necessity uncared for; to be 



52 AMUSEMENTS. 

supplied by vicious indulgence and pandered to by 
the ministers of sin? Shall an agency so potent in 
its influence, be committed to the hands of those 
who will use it for their own selfish gain, utterly 
Regardless of all other consequences? Shall all 
forms of amusement, — which in some form the young 
will have — be so contaminated that they must be 
avoided, and proscribed by him who would have 
clean hands and a pure heart? Is there no great 
duty in this relation, which the wise and good have 
neglected? Has society properly provided for this 
great emergency? Is not our philosophy on this 
subject essentially unsound? Is there any necessary 
connection between recreation and frivolity ? Have 
Christians done wisely to ignore this whole matter 
of amusements, or to content themselves with a 
sweeping anathema? There is a most radical dis- 
tinction to be observed, as we shall presently show, 
in respect of the different modes of recreation: and 
it is in order that this may be practically made, that 
we call upon all the good and the benevolent, to recog- 
nise a distinction in word and deed. Do not reason 
any longer upon the principle, that if you patronise 
innocent amusement, your neighbor will feel at liberty 
to uphold that which is hurtful and immoral. If 
your looser neighbor is inclined to do wrong, your 
doing right will not make his evil inclination any 



AMUSEMENTS. 53 

stronger. Neither does the abstinence of Christians 
from that which they know to be harmless, seem to 
make the men of the world any more temperate in 
those pleasures which are positively hurtful. It is 
time that this whole matter were reconsidered: that, 
if possible, our young men may be rescued from the 
grasp of the spoiler. 

I now proceed to consider this question : by what 
tests may the young man distinguish between un- 
wholesome and wholesome amusements? I will 
give, in reply, a few general principles, which may 
be readily applied to all specific cases. 

And, first, those forms of amusement should be 
avoided which so powerfully absorb the mind, as to 
unfit you for your proper business, and tempt you 
to neglect it. There are some kinds of recreation, 
which, though they have no inherent sinfulness, still 
possess such a fascination as to make them danger- 
ous. This is, in my view, the main objection to most 
games of chance, as they are termed, rather than the 
circumstance that they maj^ lead on to gambling. 
So long as the general operations of business are, to 
a great extent, conducted upon the principle of gam- 
bling, — which is simply this, to hazard the lesser 
for the chance of winning the greater, — the indul- 
gence of this propensity seems to be provided for 
in a more liberal and more respectable way. In the 
-5* 



54 AMUSEMENTS. 

moment that any amusement encroaches upon the 
claims of duty, rendering you unfaithful to your 
trust, it becomes mischievous and wrong. If it so 
take possession of your thoughts, as to make you 
remiss in your vocation, eager to have the hours of 
labor over, so that you may return to its enjoyment, 
it is doing you great evil. And, in such a case, it 
becomes you to call into exercise the energy of your 
will to forsake the tempter, before he destroy you. 

And, secondly, all those forms of amusement, 
which, instead of inspiring you with renewed activ- 
ity for the business of life, so over-stimulate and 
excite the system, that you return to your labor 
exhausted and debilitated, should be carefully avoid- 
ed. They are such as encroach upon the hours of 
rest, turning night into day, which leads, of course, 
to the turning of day into night ; they are such as 
tempt to the indulgence of absurd expense and dis- 
play, which, perhaps, can be poorly afforded; they 
are such as induce the violation of those physical 
laws, which never can be violated without their 
taking full vengeance in return; they are such as 
infringe upon sobriety of mind, temperance of body, 
unhinging the whole system ; and instead of leaving 
the man refreshed for labor, they send him back to 
his toils dispirited, weary-hearted, languid, and inert, 
— with a lack-lustre eye, and a tremulous hand, and a 



AMUSEMENTS. 55 

throbbing heart, and an aching brow, and, worse 
than all, not without some considerable loss of self- 
respect. 

And, thirdly, every thing in the shape of amuse- 
ment, which soils the mind and unfits it for pure 
and holy thought, should be shunned as you would 
shun the pestilence. In this matter, you must form 
your own judgment, and not be overborne by the 
opinion of those who tell you, misinterpreting Scrip- 
ture, that, " to the pure all things are pure." It should 
not satisfy you that you find, in the place of amuse- 
ment, the refined and respectable, and the out- 
wardly moral; just take counsel of your own heart, 
and watch the processes in operation there, to know 
whether it is a safe place for you. There are haunts 
of vice, chambers of revelry, dens of corruption, 
porches of hell, against which it might almost seem 
to be an insult even to warn you. If such were 
your places of resort, it is not very probable that 
you would be here to-night. They who go where 
the drunkard and the harlot keep their orgies, are 
not often found in the house of God. But still 
remember that the tempter has brought down many 
strong men, wounded. jSTo man stands so firm that 
he may not fall. You have no security but in the 
restraining grace of God. This season of youth is 
a perilous crisis. If you sow to the flesh, you must 



56 AMUSEMENTS. 

reap corruption. If you sin now, you must suffer 
hereafter. And you may find no place for repent- 
ance, though you seek it carefully with tears. 

And now, in conclusion, I would briefly sketch 
what species of amusements may be safely and profit- 
ably allowed in the community, and which the good 
and the reputable are under a moral obligation to 
sustain and uphold. 

The most salutary forms of recreation, are those 
which consist mainly in athletic exercises, and which 
strengthen the body, while they relax the mind. 
The immense moral importance of a sound physical 
training in youth, is a point which, amongst us, has 
been very strangely overlooked. While we live in 
the flesh, it is very desirable that the material organ 
through which the mind operates, should be in good 
working order. It is impossible for the soul to 
develope itself soundly, through the medium of an 
unsound organism. So intimate is the connection 
of mind and body, that we cannot tell precisely 
where the line of distinction runs between physical 
and moral disease. The style of amusement which 
we now recommend, tends to cure both; the elas- 
ticity which it imparts to the body, is communicated 
to the mind, and. passes over even into the moral 
functions; for the physical, the intellectual, and the 
moral, are all so intimately conjoined., that whatever 



AMUSEMENTS. 57 

influences one, affects all tlie rest. Physiology is a 
branch of education, which, strange to say, has but 
just begun to command public attention, and, like 
every thing else in its beginning, it is opposed both 
by the ignorant, and by some who ought to know 
better; but there is not a study which is more 
imperatively needed than this, none more interesting 
or serviceable. 

In the next place, I would remark, that it is desir- 
able for us as a people, to have a greater number of 
holidays, and that such days should be more profit- 
ably observed than they are now. I have often 
thought that such occasions are with us so infre- 
quent, that we do not know how to dispose of them 
when they recur. There is more eating and drink- 
ing accomplished than usual, which makes the peo- 
ple a little more miserable than they are ordinarily : 
multitudes collect together, with no very definite 
purpose; we have too much national dignity to 
engage in the good old-fashioned English sports, and 
our official displays and processions are not particu- 
larly attractive; so that, upon the whole, the pre- 
vailing sentiment appears to be, that those anniver- 
saries and popular celebrations involve a useless 
waste of time, besides the actual loss of profit in 
business, occasioned by the absence of our clerks 
and the closing of our stores. In this respect, there 



58 AMUSEMENTS. 

are symptoms of manifest improvement, for which 
we rejoice. The welfare of humanity is promoted, 
when men of all ranks and conditions are drawn 
together by their interest in some common object; 
when our philanthropic associations array themselves 
with their badges and banners, emblazoned with 
sacred emblems and holy words ; when those noble 
bands of men, who, while others are sleeping, are 
always ready to face the midnight storm, and do 
battle with the raging element that threatens to 
devour our dwellings, are seen in their appropriate 
garb, and, with their glittering engines, swelling the 
long procession, — a sight which we never behold 
without emotions of respect and gratitude; when 
our mechanics, with their innumerable works of 
industry and art, emerge from their places of toil, 
to show the world that they are not ashamed of 
labor, and also to show us how they are made strong 
by labor. Although, in connection with all this, there 
may be some incidental evils, still a great good is 
effected ; there is a recognition of our human broth- 
erhood, a sound patriotism is quickened, and the 
dull flow of life relieved. And the incidental evils 
might be greatly abated, if the proper pains were 
taken by those who now look upon all such demon- 
strations with indifference and contempt. 

In the next place, I would commend those amuse- 



AMUSEMENTS. 59 

merits which are addressed to a sound and healthy 
taste, and which impart such pure pleasure to the 
cultivated mind. Such are all well-conducted mu- 
sical entertainments, displays of refined painting and 
sculpture; arts, which like every thing else, may be 
abused, but which have their seat in the purer 
instincts of our nature. All exhibitions of mechan- 
ical skill and ingenuity : all which enlarge the sphere 
of historical and scientific knowledge, should, by 
the force of public opinion and public patronage, be 
made to supersede those degrading forms of amuse- 
ment, which, for the want of something better, 
entrap so many unwary feet. 

And, finally, home should be made attractive, and 
domestic recreation should be more carefully pro- 
vided. In this respect, the elder should serve the 
younger, that the younger may be under no tempta- 
tion to wander away from an irksome home, in search 
of more congenial companionships. There is no 
more powerful agency for good, than that which 
springs from the associations of a cheerful fireside. 
It follows the youth long after he has left the house 
of his infancy, and saves him from many a peril. 
It throws its sunshine far down the track of life ; and 
even in old age, we are blessed in the remembrance 
of those hours of innocent and early joy, when merry 
voices shouted around the fireside of our childhood.. 



60 AMUSEMENTS. 

"We cannot always rejoice; sometimes our laughter 
will be turned into mourning, and our joy into 
heaviness. And it is not well that we should always 
rejoice; for life is a serious thing, and it brings with 
it serious trials. "We have that within us, which ; if 
we understood its nature, would make us serious. 
There is that before us, which should make us seri- 
ous. Ever and anon, there is a familiar voice which 
suddenly becomes silent, and a familiar step which 
we hear no more; and then we cannot but "say of 
laughter, it is mad." And soon our time will 
come; and we shall be missed for a while in the 
familiar circle. Therefore, even our mirth should 
be tempered with seriousness. One thought, in 
closing, I desire to impress upon you: every plea- 
surable emotion which you derive from an unhealthy 
source, must be paid for at a bitter price. It will 
cost you more than it is worth. "Evil shall come 
upon thee: thou shalt not know from whence it 
riseth ; and mischief shall fall upon thee ; thou shalt 
not be able to put it off: and desolation shall come 
upon thee suddenly, which thou shalt not know!" 



LECTURE IV, 



BOOKS. 



Ecclesiastes sii. 12. — Of making many "books there is no end. 

The leading modes of influence change with the 
progress of society. There are conditions of human 
existence, in which nothing like a popular sentiment 
can prevail, and therefore no appeal is ever made 
to the mind of the people. They live and toil for 
the benefit of their superiors, from whom they 
receive laws, but not instruction. 

As society emerges from this inferior state, some- 
thing like a public sentiment is created, through the 
agency of songs, and ballads, and oral traditions,, 
which pass from mouth to mouth till they become 
generally known, and deposit their influence in the 
mind and heart of the community. It is a step in 
advance of this, when opinions begin to be propa- 
gated through the medium of more formal address 
and harangue; and thus, the abler and wiser men 
of the nation communicate knowledge and doctrine 
6 



(32 BOOKS. 

to the uninformed. Oral instruction, the preaching 
of the Word, has done great things for society ; and 
as a means of influence, it can never be entirely 
superseded. Whenever it is desirable to procure 
prompt and general action, there is nothing so effi- 
cient as the earnest word, addressed to the attentive 
ear. There is a peculiar sympathy excited by the 
crowded audience, where every mind is directed 
towards the same object, and submits itself to 
the same impressions. Every man seems to feel the 
beatings of his neighbor's heart, accelerating his 
own; and a sort of electric fire runs from soul to 
soul, enkindling emotion and quickening the intellect. 
But there is a form of influence now in operation, 
which is daily gaining the ascendancy over the 
dominion of speech, and that is the Press. The 
printed page will never silence the spoken word, and 
what is read by the eye in solitude, cannot impress 
us so forcibly,, as that which is addressed to the ear 
by the living voice. And yet, there are various 
respects in which the book has advantages over the 
discourse. The time which can be given to reading 
is tenfold, perhaps flftyfold greater than can be 
devoted to hearing the public address. An hour or 
two in the week is appropriated to the latter object, 
while some hours in every day are occupied with 
the newspaper, the pamphlet, and the book. These 



BOOKS. fi3 

may be made our constant companions, and so fill 
up all the intervals of other employment; but there 
must be a combined arrangement, and some physical 
exertion made, in order to the delivery and the hear- 
ing of a lecture or a sermon. And then, again, the 
oration can be heard by only a limited number of 
persons, and when uttered, may be soon forgotten; 
while the thoughts impressed upon the printed page, 
may be multiplied indefinitely, so as to reach an 
innumerable multitude, and be perpetuated from 
generation to generation. And, again, what is read, 
may be considered more carefully than what is 
heard; thus, it sinks deeper into the mind, and 
moulds the thoughts more effectually. We are more 
sensibly excited by what we hear, but we are more 
permanently impressed by what we read. The man 
who gives to the world a book, which arrests gen- 
eral attention, and is therefore read, secures an 
unlimited and an incalculable influence. It pene- 
trates regions where its author little imagined that 
his thoughts would ever go, and it may continue to 
do its work long after the hand which indited it has 
been turned to dust. The destiny of society is more 
dependant upon the character of the books which 
shall be written and read, than upon any other form 
of visible agency. For every body reads now : the 
trader reads, while he waits for his next customer, — 



64 BOOKS. 

the artisan reads, after the toils of the day are over, 
— the laborer reads, resting on his spade, — the car- 
man reads, seated on his waggon, — the boatman 
reads, as his bark glides along, — the traveller reads, 
as he whirls over the rail, — the child reads, almost 
as soon as he can speak. And what is read will 
have its influence over us, in defiance of every 
thing, and may revolutionize our whole system of 
belief before we know it. It will either elevate or 
degrade our opinions ; it will either ennoble or pol- 
lute our affections; it will either strengthen us for 
duty, or unnerve the will ; it will make us better or 
worse than we are. If you can find out what is a 
young man's favorite reading, you have discovered 
the general bent of his character, and can almost 
infallibly predict his destiny. 

What subject, therefore, can it be more important 
for the preacher of religion to consider, than the one 
which lies before us to-night? That subject is, the 
use of books and other reading, as an instrument 
in the formation of character. 

There are four objects designed to be attained by 
reading, and four classes of books written with 
reference to these objects. They are briefly these: 
recreation, general information, the culture of taste, and 
ethical instruction. 

I propose now to consider the principles by which 



,KS - G3 

the young should be directed in their selection of 
books, under each of these divisions: 

There is, at the present time, an undue and exces- 
sive preponderance given to works of mere amuse- 
ment. These constitute the staple commodity of our 
cheap literature. There are very many who read 
scarcely any thing else. They are bought for a 
trifle, read without effort, and — which is perhaps upon 
the whole a benefit — are forgotten as soon as they 
are read. The minds of our young men and young 
women are, to a great extent, fed with nothing but 
this innutritious and perhaps poisonous aliment. 

What are some of the specific evils which result 
from excessive and indiscriminate perusal of works 
of fiction? 

The first and most obvious is, the sad and crim- 
inal icaste of time. Have those of you who indulge 
most freely in this description of amusement, ever 
made a careful estimate of the number of hours which 
are thus thrown away in the course of a single 
year? And have you ever thought how much valu- 
able knowledge and rich instruction, — making you 
purer, nobler, manlier, healthier, — you might have 
attained, by applying these hours to a better class 
of books, which, after a while, would even interest 
you more deeply than the miserable nonsense with 
which you have glutted your immortal mind? Is it 
6* 



6Q BOOKS. 

not better to learn one new fact every day, than to 
drivel over a hundred useless falsehoods? 

But, in the next place, if you read without dis- 
crimination, you are very certain to come in contact 
with much which will defile the affections and pol- 
lute the fountains of thought. You may think that 
you are strong enough to throw off the infection, 
and resist the unwholesome influences to which you 
are thus exposed. "Can a man touch pitch, and not 
be defiled ? Can a man take fire into his bosom, and 
not be burned?" The soul is affected by the atmos- 
phere which it breathes, just as inevitably as the 
body. You may imagine that you remain uncon- 
taminated by the vicious principles which are incul- 
cated or insinuated in these evil works, because you 
do not deliberately assent to them: but it is not 
necessary for you to do this, in order to your moral 
ruin. It is passive familiarity with vice which does 
the great mischief; for the soul will take the hue of 
those colors which it habitually reflects. The habits 
which we form, perhaps imperceptibly, control us 
more than our abstract principles. 

Another evil resulting from excessive and promis- 
cuous reading of fiction is, that it imparts to the 
mind false and exaggerated views of practical life. 
A large proportion of our popular fictitious works are 
made up of such incidents and characters as rarely, 



BOOKS. (J7 

if over, exist in actual life. The book is not sale- 
able, unless every thing be made as intense as pos- 
sible; every character, good or bad, mast be exag- 
gerated into an angel or a devil; every pathetic 
scene must be heart-rending; every escape from 
peril, miraculous; every storm, a hurricane; every 
sunrise, the harbinger of something transcending 
human experience; and every nightfall, draws the 
curtain of darkness around transactions, harrowing 
beyond description. 

Now, to go forth into life, expecting to find any 
thing there answering to all this, with that tone of 
feeling which causes life to seem monotonous and 
dull, unless it be relieved by inflated sentiment and 
romance, is a poor preparation for those stern and 
homely duties in which our moral and mental disci- 
pline is to be found. It impedes the formation of a 
sound and well-balanced character; it makes labor 
distasteful, which is the great providential agent of 
personal improvement; it causes us to "despise the 
day of small things;" it inclines us to depreciate all 
the homelier virtues ; it renders us impatient of com- 
mon-place men and things; it induces a constant 
craving for excitement; in a word, it sends us forth 
into life in a state of mental intoxication. 

And, still further, this pernicious habit so debili- 
tates the mental powers, as to unfit the mind for 



09 BOOKS, 

real and thoughtful study. It destroys that faculty of 
close and careful attention which is indispensable to 
such study. All those books which require study, 
are dry and disagreeable. If they are read at all, it 
is done as a task, and whatever is thus read, does 
the man very little service. Nothing can be of much 
real benefit, which does not interest us somewhat. 
For, without this, it does not take any actual hold 
upon us. He who, from a sense of duty, reserves 
all his useful reading for Sunday, will not find his 
Sunday reading very useful. He will have no such 
control of his faculties, as to make it serviceable. 
His eye may glide over the page, but his thoughts 
are elsewhere. He counts the pages as he thus con- 
quers them, and is relieved when the requisite num- 
ber are accomplished. He has given his conscience 
an opiate, and now he may go to sleep, or dream 
with his eyes open. And of what stuff such dreams 
are made, you can readily conjecture. 

Therefore, I would say, read for amusement only 
in the intervals of labor, and as a relaxation from 
substantial study. He who reads only for amusement, 
after a while finds it hard to be thus amused. He 
wearies even of his recreation. He becomes a gouty 
epicure, and the dish must be highly seasoned to 
stimulate his palate. 

And, once more, I would say, in respect of this 



BOOKS. 69 

sort of reading, exercise a wise and judicious dis- 
crimination. We do not proscribe all works of fic- 
tion ; for there are some such books which, while they 
please the fancy, also cultivate the noblest affections 
of the heart. Some of the grandest lessons which 
the age is learning, are taught us through this 
medium. Never have the real woes and just claims 
of ' the poor been more forcibly and truthfully 
presented, than they are through certain popular 
works of fiction. Every great cause, political, phi- 
lanthropic, moral, and religious, now finds its 
advocates amongst writers of this description. In 
nearly all such works, there may be some things to 
which we would object: but in many of them, 
wholesome truths are told, and forcibly impressed 
upon the heart, which could not gain the public 
attention so effectually in any other garb. Be 
guided therefore by the general verdict of the wise 
and good in your selection. Feed upon the wheat 
which has been winnowed from the chaff. Do not 
"spend your money for that which is not bread, and 
your labor for that which profiteth not." 

I pass now to the consideration of that class of 
books, the specific object of which is to impart posi- 
tive information. In this category are included 
Travels, Biographies, Histories, works of Science, 
and the Periodical Literature, from which we obtain 



70 BOOKS 

our knowledge of passing events. There are few 
young men so situated that they may not, by having 
some such work always accessible, acquire some val- 
uable information every day. And he who learns 
something daily , — no matter how little, — will, in 
time, become a wise man. If you can manage to 
appropriate one hour out of every twenty-four, dur- 
ing youth, to the study of any branch of science, 
you will become eminent in that department of 
knowledge, provided it be adapted to your natural 
taste. 

And this leads me to observe, that it will be well 
for you, especially if the habit of substantial read- 
ing remains to be acquired, to begin with that sort 
of study which, for some reason, attracts and inter- 
ests you. For, as I have before intimated, that 
■which is read with avidity, is much more profitable 
than what is read only as a task. You will find 
that the appetite for this kind of reading, increases 
the more it is fed, and will soon destroy the taste for 
all inferior aliment. 

I would next remark, that the sphere of knowl- 
edge which you will desire to compass, will gradu- 
ally widen; for the more we know, the more we 
desire to know; the more we know, the more we 
perceive remains unknown. And do not be repelled 
from the pursuit of universal knowledge, by the old 



BOOKS. "[I 

superstition, that men in active business — merchants, 
mechanics, farmers, manufacturers, laborers — ought 
not to be wise beyond their vocation, and that it is 
dangerous for them to meddle with things too high 
for them. The experiment of ignorance has been 
tried long enough, and with no very flattering re- 
sults: it is only fair that we should test the other 
side. Has the Creator endowed you with the faculty 
of knowledge, with the power of investigating, and 
comparing, and judging for yourselves, for no prac- 
tical purpose? Are you forbidden to study the 
wonderful phenomena, which on every side sur- 
round you? Is your safety dependant upon your 
ignorance? Is it an unfavorable indication when a 
young man, instead of seeking the chambers of 
reve]ry to wile away his leisure, retires from the 
world, to study the wonderful truths of science and 
the instructive lessons of history? If "a little learn- 
ing is a dangerous thing," then are we all in danger; 
for, compared with what remains unknown, all that 
any of us know is little indeed. A little learning is 
better than none, because it incites us to learn more; 
and no man can know too much. He may imagine 
that he knows much, when he really knows but 
little : and this is dangerous. For this is the secret 
of unwholesome skepticism and evil unbelief. This, 
however, is no argument against universal study, 



72 BOOKS. 

any more than our liability to be poisoned, is an 
argument against taking food. The work of univer- 
sal education has begun, and it is one of those works 
which, when begun, cannot be arrested by fears, or 
long hindered by prejudice. We thank God that it 
is so. For the more men learn of His mighty works, 
the more intelligent will be their reverence, and the 
more immoveable their faith. Ignorance is the 
mother of no other sort of devotion but that which 
is superstitious, and therefore derogatory to the 
Being upon whom it is expended. 

In the next place, I would speak of that descrip- 
tion of reading, which has for its object the cultiva- 
tion of taste, and embraces all departments of rhetor- 
ical and poetical composition. It is generally 
assumed, that there is a great constitutional diver- 
sity in our natural aptitudes for this kind of study. 
This difference, however, appears to be much greater 
than it is, through the want of early culture. It is 
thus that we account for the fact, that some regard 
poetry as one of the harmless vanities of life, which 
deserves little attention from strong and sensible 
men. And yet, these very persons cannot gaze 
unmoved upon the gorgeous sunset, as the king of day 
retires, wrapped in gold and vermilion drapery ; or 
upon the thundering cataract, shaking the solid earth 
in its voluminous descent ; or upon the molten ocean, 



books. 73 

with its infinite undulations, kissing the horizon ; or 
upon the solemn profound of the midnight sky, with 
its silver lights, revealing the depths of the darkness; 
or upon the heavens, when, black with wrath, the 
storm-clouds rush together in battle, fringed with 
the glare of electric light; or upon the soft spring 
morning, when the nodding flowers seem to ring out 
chimes of melodious fragrance to the breeze, keeping 
time and tune with the scarlet-breasted birds over- 
head, as they sing their matins in the trees. And 
the same susceptibility which causes them to be 
impressed by these realities of nature — impressions 
whose moral value cannot be over-estimated — would 
impart a charm and a . reality to true poetry and 
song, if a refined taste for such reading had been 
early cultivated. To neglect this culture, deprives 
us not only of one of the noblest sources of pleasure, 
but also of a refining, humanizing, elevating means- 
of moral improvement. A true poet is a mighty 
benefactor. It is the poetry of the Bible which we- 
read as devotion. Many of the noblest deeds in 
the world's history are known to us only in song.. 
It is the tendency of grand emotion to shape itself 
into rhythm : 

"With octaves of a mystic depth and height, 
Which steps out grandly to the infinite 
From the dark edges of the sensual ground." 

7 



74 BOOKS. 

It is difficult for one long to content himself with, 
mean pursuits and debasing pleasures, who is able 
to appreciate the refreshment and the holy stimulus 
of harmonious numbers. 

" * * * * As the tossed bark 
Doth seek the shelter of some quiet bay 
To trim its shattered cordage, and restore 
Its riven sails — so should the toil-worn mind 
Refit for time's rough voyage." 

Turn your wearied steps to these arbors of rest, 
which poets have woven with leaves of perpetual 
green, and adorned with incense-breathing flowers ; 
and your repose shall be sweet and refreshing. You 
shall go back to your hard labors, shielded from 
temptation, fortified for trial, and stimulated to fresh 
endeavor. 

It now remains that I should speak of that descrip- 
tion of reading, which has for its design your more 
direct instruction in ethics and religion : a species of 
reading which, we fear, notwithstanding the great 
multiplication of instructive works in our day, is 
sadly neglected by the rising generation. All your 
reading, indeed, should be such as will be' likely 
to have a beneficial moral tendency. And whatever 
excites healthy thought is of this description. This 
stimulus to virtue is what is most needed, rather 
than farther enlightenment as to the theory of recti- 



books. 75 

tude. Knowledge, however, must always precede 
practice, and this leads me to remark, in the first 
place, that no young man should be willing to grow 
up to maturity, in ignorance of moral and religious 
truth. It is incumbent upon you to have some sys- 
tem of belief, which you hold intelligently and firmly. 
If you believe yourselves to be immortal, you must 
see the necessity of knowing something more than is 
required for the successful ordering of your secular 
business. There should be some stable foundation 
upon which to build a structure, that is destined to 
last for ever. You should have a theology of some 
description: and you had better hold to a system 
partially defective, than to none at all. You will, 
at any rate, get the benefit of such truth as it may 
contain ; and this may, in a measure, counteract its 
falsities. There are certain fundamental principles 
which are common to various forms of Christian 
theology; and most of the variations occur in the 
arrangements of the superstructure. It does not 
come within the scope of this discourse to enter into 
their detail, and state what constitute the essentials 
of a sound belief; but simply to counsel you to 
make this a matter of investigation and careful 
thought. It is due to the great purposes for which 
you were created, not to neglect this study. 

But, in the next place, do not select this sort of 



76 BOOKS. 

reading at random, or read on all points without dis- 
crimination. It is a dangerous experiment to dip 
cursorily into all the contending systems with which 
the age abounds: they cannot all be true, and you 
may give your assent to that which is most errone- 
ous, and, which is more probable, you may be left 
without a firm belief in any thing. I fear that there 
is a growing skepticism in the community, not 
simply with reference to questions of doubtful im- 
portance, but upon points which touch the very 
vitality of faith. It is evident enough that theology 
must soon fall back into the citadel, to save her 
heavenly treasures. The circle of fundamental truths 
must be somewhat narrowed, in order to their effi- 
cient protectiou. There is an order of truths soon to 
be contended for, which will make us forget the old 
metaphysical battles of theology. The advocates of 
divine and eternal doctrine will need your aid, when 
you have passed on to your maturity. I advise you, 
therefore, not to expend your time upon those dog- 
matic discussions which pertain only to the past, and 
are never likely to be revived again; but in your 
investigations, to have direct reference to the exist- 
ing state of society. It is to such subjects as these 
that your attention should be first directed: the 
nature and being of a personal God; the problem 
of human destin}^; the purpose of man's creation 
and his final allotment; the character of the Divine 



BOOKS. 77 

laws, as disclosed in nature and in revelation; the 
ground and the limitations of our responsibility; 
the nature and certainty of moral recompense; the 
means of our acceptance with God, and the practical 
duties which He assigns to us. And let me tell you, 
that there is no employment to which you can give 
your minds, that will so absorb and interest you when 
you have once fairly enlisted your thoughts in it, 
as this species of investigation. And, if it be rightly 
conducted, it will cause a wonderful growth in your 
whole moral and intellectual being. You will rise 
superior to the vanities, and even to the fatalities of 
this mortal life; for you will feel that nothing which 
can happen here is of much importance, except as it 
bears upon what is to come hereafter. Your "con- 
versation will be in heaven." 

In the next place, I would counsel you to be 
guided, in your selection of this kind of reading, by 
what appears to be the general opinion of the good 
and the w r ise. There are certain books upon which 
the world has set its stamp of approval: begin your 
studies with these. At the basis of all morals and 
theology, lies that wonderful Book, resplendent with 
the name of Jesus, which is the germ of all improve- 
ment and human progress. Search the Scriptures, 
for they testify of Christ. And Christ must be your 
Teacher, if you would become wise unto salvation. 
7* 



78 'BOOKS. 

In closing my lecture on -the last Sunday evening, 
I remarked that "life is a serious thing, and brings 
with it serious trials: that we have that within us 
which, if we understood its nature, would make us 
serious: and there is that before us, which should 
make us serious. Ever and anon, there is a familiar 
voice which suddenly becomes silent, and a familiar 
step that we hear no more. And soon our time will 
come, and we shall be missed for a while in the fam- 
iliar circle." "We little thought that, within twelve 
hours, one to whom these words were spoken, was 
destined to leave this world for ever. It cannot but 
remind us that this may be, to some of you, the last 
word of counsel you will ever have on earth. There- 
fore, I would say to you, whatever your hands find 
to do for .your own eternal benefit, for the honor of 
God, or $he good of humanity, do it with ^11 your 
might, and do it now. 

"Life is real, life is earnest^ 
And the grave is not its goal; 

Dust thou art, to dust returnest, 
Was not spoken of the soul. 

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, 
Is our destined end or way; 

But to act, that each to-morrow 
Find us farther than to-day. 

Let us, then, be up and doing, 
With a heart for any fate ; 

Still achieving, still pursuing, 
Learn to labor and to wait." 



LECTURE V. 



THOUGHT. 



1 Timothy iv. 15. — Meditate upon these things. 

We have already considered the influence of our 
daily business, amusements, and habits of reading, 
upon the formation of character. I shall now speak 
of the bearing of thought, or of the internal pro- 
cesses of the mind, upon our condition and destiny. 

What is a thought? Every body knows by con- 
sciousness what it is, although very few would be 
•able to give an intelligible definition. Answering 
the question very generally, we would say, it is the 
mind in action ; not the substance of the mind itself, 
but that which it produces. In one sense, thought 
is evanescent as the breath we exhale; in another 
sense, it is as eternal as the mind which gave it birth. 
It is the most subtle of all things, and yet it is the 
cause of all things which the hand constructs. The 
words think and thing are supposed to have been 
originally the same, meaning that which is done, or 



80 THOUGHT. 

an act. Thoughts are the things of the mind, its deeds, 
that which it does. This matter of thinking, in all 
its phases, is full of interest and mystery. Here 
there are to-night, within these walls, a thousand 
spiritual organisms, hidden behind screens of flesh 
and blood, all continually evolving thoughts, some 
of which are perhaps of great value, others indiffer- 
ent, it may be contemptible. What it is which gives 
direction to our thoughts, how they are suggested, 
and how controlled, how far our minds are affected 
by the material organization, what are the conditions 
of our intellectual existence when separated from 
the body, — of such points as these we know com- 
paratively little. There are systems of philosophy 
which pretend to dissect the mind as if it were a 
watch, and show us the springs, and the balance- 
wheels, and the regulators, and the connecting 
chains; but they are very unsatisfactory as soon as 
they get beyond the region of simple phenomena. 
No man can define a sound, or explain the sensation 
of touch, or tell us where the sense of sight is placed. 
This fact, however, is certain: wherever this mys- 
terious process of thought has once commenced, it 
must go on for ever! And what a fact this is! 
Here we are to-night; some of you have been think- 
ing, in a right or wrong direction, for only a score of 
years, others for four-score years: and millions of 



THOUGHT. Ql 

ages hence, we shall all be some where, thinking on 
still, and very probably able then to recall the iden- 
tical thought which we have this moment. For 
whatever changes we may pass through hereafter, 
will impair neither our identity or memory; no 
exterior transformations can affect the internal qual- 
ity of our being. 

Another fact of equal importance is this, it is the 
style of our thoughts which determines the quality 
of our being, or that essential character which is 
thus eternal. As a man thinks, so he is. All sin is 
a thought: all virtue is a thought. Actions are only 
manifested thoughts. Out of the heart, which is the 
Hebrew symbol of mind, are the issues of good 
and of evil. 

All the other topics, therefore, that we have con- 
sidered are of no moment, except as they are con- 
nected with the great subject which now lies before 
us. For they all affect us and the world, only 
through the medium of thought. 

And I begin the discussion of my subject with 
the broad proposition, that the great business of 
youth is to learn to think. I apply this statement, 
without the slightest qualification, to young men of 
every class and condition. God has given to you all 
the thinking faculty, although in various degrees, 
and it is His will that }*ou should cultivate and dis- 



82 THOUGHT. 

cipline this faculty. And whatever may fee your 
vocation, it must afford you some facilities for such, 
mental culture. 

Here, however, the objection will fee immediately 
started in certain quarters, is it not dangerous to 
recommend the general exercise of thought? Has 
not the cultivation of the reason, free investigation, 
independent thought, induced skepticism and all 
sorts of erroneous doctrines? Is it not better for 
young men in business to keep to their work, and 
let their superiors do the thinking, and then, as they 
deem prudent, communicate to them the results ? Is 
not society sorely disturbed by thinking mechanics, 
meditative laborers, who will persist in reading, and 
analyzing, and forming their own opinions? Will 
they always fee content with their wages, if they go 
on in this way? Will they continue to "believe as 
implicitly what we tell them? Will they take all 
those things for granted, which we deem it expedient 
that they should? Will they not lose in the article 
of faith, what they gain in knowledge? In a word, 
is not this faculty of reason, whose cultivation you 
recommend, one of the most perilous endowments of 
humanity ? 

Perhaps it is ; and yet I do not see that the world 
is "best off where it is exercised the least. I do not 
suppose that the general state of society among the 



THOUGHT. 83 

Hottentots, who have probably done as little for the 
culture of this dangerous faculty as any other people, 
is upon the whole very desirable. Neither do I 
imagine that those ages of the world, when the 
minds of the people were in the most complete sub- 
jection, and the right of private judgment was gen- 
erally suspended, brought forth the precious fruits of 
righteousness and peace most abundantly. There is 
always somewhat of turmoil and peril in the period 
of transition: when the Arctic ocean breaks up at 
midsummer, there is grinding, and groaning, and 
heaving all over the surface, that before lay so still, 
and impassive, and cold; and then the ship that has 
reposed so long in that northern sea, quiet and safe, 
must look to her timbers; and yet the mariner 
would not wish to be frozen up for ever. The 
Eeformation broke the peace of Europe ; but it gave 
the world new life when it seemed ready to die. 
We are now in a period of transition, which I be- 
lieve will prove to be as. eventful as the Eeformation ; 
and the horizon is full of evil tokens : there are dan- 
gers on the right hand and on the left; the great 
icebergs are down upon us, rushing before the wind; 
we must stand by the helm all day and all night; 
those cold mountains of error glisten in all the colors 
of the rainbow, they throw off their diamond sparks 
at every moment, they look like cities of refuge, 



84 THOUGHT. 

with their towering spires, and silver domes, and 
gorgeous battlements ; but their touch is destruction. 
Can we steer safely in such a sea? Can we escape 
shipwreck? Can we ever reach the haven where 
we would be? Yes, we can; for God is above us, 
and He knoweth our necessities. Trust in Him, and 
cultivate aright the faculties which he has given you, 
and He will order your destiny. 

But I would ask the objector, what makes it any 
more safe for him to cultivate his reason, than for 
others? Is there conferred upon any man, or class 
of men, the exclusive privilege of thinking safely? 
There are men still living, who dread the result of 
our present efforts to introduce universal education, 
and to train our youth in habits of earnest thought. 
It ought to be enough to silence their lips, that God 
has given to men at large the capacity to be edu- 
cated; and the capacity indicates the intended end. 
And, by a similar process of reasoning, the propriety 
not only of educating all the people, but also of 
teaching them on all subjects, so far as practicable,, 
may be established. Whatever exists in nature, 
God created ; and whatever God has created, He has 
made to be studied ; and the study of nothing which 
God has made can be rightly conducted without 
benefit. 

One further step we do not hesitate to take: it is 



THOUGHT. 85 

the privilege and the duty of every human being to 
think as profoundly upon every subject submitted to 
him, as the nature of his powers will admit. For it 
is not in real, but in superficial thought that our 
danger lies; it is the glancing at the outside of 
things, and then going on our way, which leads us 
into error. It is this which makes Science the hand- 
maid to Infidelity, and it is to save you from this 
that I advise you, in early life, to learn how to think, 
and to think profoundly. 

I have another reason for this advice: a high state 
of mental activity will, in a great measure, prevent 
you from craving after that excitement which comes 
from the indulgence of the lower propensities of 
your nature. The pleasures of real thought are so 
much loftier and purer than those which are derived 
from any form of animal enjoyment, that, by a 
natural law, they extinguish the baser desire. There- 
is nothing which so braces the soul, and enkindles, 
all its powers, and lifts it so high above the earthy 
as the study of truth. All truth is of God, and; 
the more distinctly we apprehend the truth, the 
nearer do we come to Grod. When we conceive a 
noble thought, we are, in a certain sense, inspired 
with that thought ; that is, it is breathed into the soul 
(which is what the word inspired literally means) 
from the great Source of all truth. And this inspir-- 
8 



86 THOUGHT. 

ation always giveth understanding. The highest 
forms of inspiration which the world has ever known, 
such as filled the minds of prophets and apostles, 
have not interfered with or suspended the operations 
of the natural reason; but they have clarified it, 
elevated it, spiritualized it, and then developed the 
truth through its agency. It is a reproach against 
nature and against God, to degrade the province of 
reason, as well as to pervert it to evil. When it is 
thus perverted, it follows the suggestions of the 
flesh, and becomes a carnal reason, which is not to 
be trusted. For the carnal mind is enmity against 
God, and is not subject to the law or suggestion of 
God, neither indeed can be. 

And now I turn to the practical question, how 
m*ay the young man learn to think? 

I reply, in the first place, by carefully collecting 
the materials of thought. The mind must have 
something to work upon, and the amount which it 
produces depends very much upon the quality and 
quantity of the material which it accumulates. It 
is the presence of facts which stimulates the mental 
powers to action : the empty mind collapses and lies 
inert. But, then, it is not all kinds of knowledge 
which excite real thought; it is only those facts 
which are of some intrinsic importance, which have 
some relation to our own destiny, to the welfare of 



THOUGHT. 87 

the race, or to the glory of God, as manifested in 
His works, that move the strong energies of the 
sonl. I have no doubt that we might empty our 
minds of one half of all that we know, and not 
lose much by the operation. It has been well said, 
that there are some things which it is a praise not to 
know. There are very many things, which it is a 
matter of supreme indifference whether we know or 
not. But there are truths which it were well that 
every young man should know, and that thoroughly ; 
they would impart a healthy glow to the soul, make 
the heart throb with exultation, lead off the thoughts 
from the petty trifles in which they had been 
absorbed, and rouse all the higher functions of the 
mind into quick and vigorous action. There is no 
department of science which, if thoroughly ex- 
plored, will not reveal wonders, so unexpected, so 
grand, so suggestive of Divine love and wisdom, as 
to prostrate the soul in reverence, and cause every 
pulsation of our being to vibrate with rapture. How 
sad it is that the great mass of men should go through 
the world with closed eyes and sealed ears! They 
move on impassive, amid splendors and mysteries, 
which, if they were only apprehended, would make 
them utterly careless of the ephemeral vanities which 
now absorb their souls. There they go, clutching at 
bubbles, which dissolve at their touch: hunting for 



gg THOUGHT. 

pleasures, which they never find; while transcend- 
ant happiness, the very joy of heaven, lies within 
their grasp. 

In the next place, I observe, that the facts which 
you accumulate must be carefully revolved ; that is, 
turned over and over in the mind, and surveyed in 
every possible aspect. It is here that the process of 
thought, strictly speaking, begins. If you would 
become really wise, you must thus learn how to dis- 
tribute and arrange the material which you have 
collected. Some young men read a great deal to 
very little purpose. The facts which they have 
acquired have been reduced to no orderly classifica- 
tion, but lie scattered about in tumultuous disorder. 
What is learned to-day, instead of throwing new 
light upon what was learned yesterday, only covers 
it up and hides it from the sight. Therefore, I 
would say to you under this head, read and observe 
with due deliberation. Let there be method in your 
study. Look earnestly and patiently upon every 
new fact that you acquire, till you become familiar 
with its aspect, and know where it belongs, and how 
to recognise it hereafter. 

In the next place, you should cultivate the habit 
of close analysis, in respect of all things and truths 
which come under your notice. Analysis is the 
taking an article to pieces, in order to find out the 



THOUGHT. gC) 

parts of which it is composed, and how they are put 
together. It is an inspection of the interior con- 
tents of whatever is submitted to onr notice. "With- 
out this habit of thought, yon will find it impossible 
to distinguish truth from error. We know very 
little of any substance in nature, b} r just glancing at 
the outside of it: we can judge very indifferently 
of any truth, by the manner in which it strikes the 
ear. If you would learn really to think, you must 
accustom yourselves, whenever you read or hear 
any statement, to ask what is the precise meaning of 
this statement? has it &ny intelligible signification? 
if it have, what does it necessarily involve? what 
are the primary elements of this truth, if it be a 
truth? upon what grounds are they commended to 
my belief? Some will say, this would be to foster 
skepticism ; I say, it is the only way to distinguish 
truth from error, and so secure a sound and intelli- 
gent belief. 

In the next place, you must learn to compare 
things with each other, in order to perceive the 
affinities of truth, and detect the contradictions of 
error. This is also very important in order to your 
learning to think correctly. Truth is always con- 
sistent with itself: and no fact in any science can 
ever contradict &fact in any other branch of knowl- 
edge. Because of our imperfect information, facts 
8* 



90 THOUGHT. 

often seem to clash with each other; and God 
has so ordered it, in order to the very discipline 
which we acquire in the endeavor to reconcile them. 
There may be instances where we utterly fail to do 
so, and then we must repose upon faith: believing 
that they may be reconciled, though we are incom* 
petent to detect the mode. This study of the 
mutual relations of truth, is a most profitable exer- 
cise of the mind. You cannot learn to think with- 
out it. Any one fact, isolated from all other facts, 
teaches us nothing. As God is one, so, in a certain 
sense, creation is one: from the absolute Unity pro- 
ceeds the universe, and this word universe means 
simply one line. Each fact, therefore, in this uni- 
verse, must have its relation to every other fact: as 
each part of the human body has a relation to the 
whole structure. Therefore, you should aim to 
make your studies, as far as possible, all-comprehen- 
sive: for whatever new truth you learn, in any 
department of knowledge, will throw light upon 
every other which you may have already acquired. 

In the next place, I would remind you, that if you 
would learn to think profitably and safely, you must 
be careful to test every new form of truth, by some 
acknowledged and undoubted standard. There are 
axioms or unquestionable first principles in every 
science, physical and moral, and nothing can be 



THOUGHT. 91 

true which contradicts them. There are general 
principles of evidence, to which every thing must 
be submitted, before it can be intelligently received. 
It is the neglect of those tests, which God has estab- 
lished for the trial of doctrine, which makes the 
exercise of our reason unsafe. It is this which 
occasions both superstition and unbelief: each, of 
which has a natural tendency to flow over into its 
opposite. It is not only as a mental, but also as a 
moral discipline, that I advise you to try every state* 
merit by those standards, which we know to be of God, 
because they are divinely authenticated. And while 
you exercise your reason, which I advise you to do, 
to the very utmost of your capacity, never lose 
sight of its fallibility, never forget how prone it is 
just to take counsel of inclination, and so convince 
you that whatever you wish to be true, is true. For 
men have reasoned themselves into sin, though al- 
ways by some false process of reasoning, and turned 
the very light that God placed in them for their 
guidance, into darkness. You cannot have a more 
treacherous guide than an unsanctified understanding. 
Once more, if you would learn to think to the 
best possible advantage, you must accustom your- 
selves to the habit of careful deduction, tracing out 
the facts and truths which you acquire to their 
legitimate inferences and conclusions. This is the 



92 THOUGHT. 

final step in the process which we have been con- 
sidering. Every thing which Ave know suggests 
something as its consequence, and this constitutes 
the chief value of knowledge. He is the wisest 
man, who looks forward to the greatest distance, 
and anticipates results most unerringly: as he is the 
wisest youth, who lives least for the present, and 
most for the future. The great intellectual differ- 
ences in society, turn mainly upon this power of 
foresight, — that statesman is best fitted to rule, who 
has the most sharp-sighted and long-sighted vision : 
the best rulers of Israel are also styled prophets. 
The great moral distinctions which divide society, 
turn mainly upon the different degrees of regard 
which men have for their future life, in the ordering 
of the present. So that your study or mental disci- 
pline, if you would reap its real benefit, must qual- 
ify you to look into the future, and to live for the 
future. This season of preparation allotted to you, 
how brief it is! how very soon it will be overt 
And what tremendous results hang upon it! Are 
you content that it should all be wasted? Will you 
prostitute your immortal powers in the pursuits of 
vanity and vice? Are you willing to grow up to 
maturity, with an undisciplined mind and an unsanc- 
tified heart? 0, that you were only able to appre- 
ciate the unspeakable value of these fleeting hours 



thought. 93 

of youth, which perhaps you may be now squander- 
ing in fully and in sin! Would that it were possible 
for you to change places, for a single day, with the 
man who has lived through his three-score summers, 
and survey your youth from that advanced stand- 
point! "Will you lay up in store for the future 
nothing but mournful recollections, melancholy 
memories, and unavailing regrets? 

I shall now proceed very briefly to consider some 
of the ordinary hindrances ■ to severe and useful 
thought, which are more especially operative during 
the period of youth. 

First and foremost, I must place the indulgence 
of sensual and sinful habits of mind. In the deep 
and dark recesses of the earth, a species of atmos- 
phere sometimes accumulates, in which no living 
thing can continue to breathe and no flame to burn: 
in the depths of the soul there may gather such an 
atmosphere, fatal to the life of thought, and destruc- 
tive to the bright flame of truth. The symptoms of 
such a state are seen in indolence, apathy, dread of 
effort, weariness of labor, and the gradual abnega- 
tion of all that is high and holy. There are certain 
physical conditions of vigorous thought, which such 
a moral state renders impossible. The material 
organization, in which and through which the mind 
must always work, while it retains its connection 



94 THOUGHT. 

with, the body, becomes inelastic, flaccid, torpid, and 
inert. And, again, the lower appetites and passions 
take possession of the mind, to the necessary exclu- 
sion of all elevated thoughts and emotions. The 
refined and delicate stimulus of truth loses its power 
to excite the faculties, which have been drugged, 
and poisoned, and blunted, by the gross indulgences 
of appetite. There have, indeed, sometimes shone 
forth flashes of rare intelligence, from minds encased 
in a besotted and inebriated body, and lips which 
have driveled at the drunkard's orgies are next 
heard, speaking with almost superhuman eloquence; 
and he who has not strength enough to save him- 
self from drunkenness and brutality, in the intervals 
of his shame, may have the wisdom to direct a 
nation's destiny: but even then, we cannot help but 
mourn when we think how such a man, instead of 
startling the world with this occasional lightning- 
glare, might go forth in steady and stately move- 
ment, like the sun in his strength, illuminating and 
blessing the earth with perpetual resplendence. 
What we see of his native glory, only makes us 
mourn the more for what is lost! 

The second hindrance to thought, which I would 
notice, is a fondness for Tight and frivolous society. 
There are frequent gatherings for what is called 
social intercourse, and in which the young are par- 



THOUGHT. 95 

ticularly expected to participate, where men and 
women come together, appearing to have left their 
minds at home, as if they were a useless incum- 
brance. The style of conversation on those occa- 
sions is of such a nature, that it would be an insult 
to the intellect to suppose that it had any concern 
with what is uttered. The goddess of inanity reigns 
supreme. To state one useful fact, or to start any 
sensible topic, would be regarded as a violation of 
good-breeding. The young man who habitually 
patronizes such circles as these, and becomes eminent 
for his ability to make himself agreeable there, is 
not likely to be eminent in any thing else. He may 
become a model of languishing manners; but he 
also becomes the sad specimen of a languishing soul. 
The third hindrance to the exercise of thought 
having been somewhat enlarged upon in a previous 
lecture, I shall speak of the more briefly at present, 
and that is, reading exclusively for amusement. 
Some books stimulate, and others only enervate the 
mind. Some fill the mind with thoughts, others 
unhinge the very faculty of thought. It is no 
necessary discredit to a book that it is amusing, as 
it is not in favor of a book that it is dull and dry ; 
but it is not w^orth while to give much time to 
either, if they do us no sort of good. And it must 
be said of hundreds of such works as are now fly- 



96 THOUGHT. 

lag from the press, that they do the world no good, 
but infinite harm. They are doing more to destroy 
the power of thought with our young men and 
women, than any other influence now in operation. 
Some of our great publishing-houses are nothing 
but intellectual dram-shops, where the young, and 
sometimes the old, go to procure the means of pro- 
ducing mental intoxication. 

The fourth hindrance to thought grows out of 
careless habits of observation. Some men see a 
great deal more than others in the same range of 
prospect, although the eye-sight of all may be 
equally perfect. A keen and watchful eye will fur- 
nish you with many rich materials for thought. 
The world is full of such material, if we only have 
the gift to detect it. Every stone, and shrub, and 
flower' — every form, and sound, and color — every 
character we encounter in society — every varying 
process of our own minds, may furnish us with mat- 
ter for reflection. Every thing without us and within 
us is full of wonders, which only grow and multiply 
the more they are explored. 

Another hindrance to thought springs from intel- 
lectual vanity, or the fond conceit which some enter- 
tain, that they are above the necessity of patient 
study. They may have a sort of mental nimble- 
ness, enabling them to run over subjects, as certain 
insects skip over the grass; but this very facility 



THOUGHT. 97 

hinders them from making any valuable acquisitions. 
Time will probably cure this vanity, but you cannot 
well afford to wait for that. Therefore, it would be 
better if you can now be made to feel that, with all 
your superior talent and keen intuitive perceptions, 
it is still possible for you to make some improvement 
through the ordinary processes of thought. 

The last, and a much more general hindrance to 
real thought, originates in a blind and bigotted 
attachment to hereditary opinions, which may be 
right or may be wrong, according to circumstances. 
It does not matter, in this connection, whether they 
happen to be right or wrong; if we are unwilling 
to exercise our minds upon them — if they lie in the 
soul as paralyzed, dead forms of truth — they only 
clog the wheels of intellectual activity. The reali- 
ties which these incrustations represent, might prove. 
to be of great value to us, if we would only rouse 
ourselves to the inspection of their contents. Every 
truth which has taken strong hold upon our affec- 
tions, ought also to be made the subject of serious, 
earnest, patient thought; and then, if it prove to be 
a truth, it will entwine itself the more closely about 
the heart. It becomes better understood, more thor- 
oughly appreciated, and more intelligently believed. 

And now, in conclusion, allow me to suggest one. 
or two general reflections. 
9 



gg THOUGHT. 

"While we would encourage the young to think, 
we would remind them that the faculty of thought 
may be perverted to the most destructive evil. 
There have been some transcendant intellects, which 
have bequeathed to the world legacies of falsehood 
and corruption. Philosophy, and Eloquence, and 
Song, have sometimes become panders to the powers 
of evil. But, when these sad results occur, it is 
because inclination and passion are allowed to direct 
the reason. This nobler faculty may have often 
remonstrated against the conclusions towards which 
it is thus driven, but as often it is silenced and over- 
powered. Beware, therefore, how you allow your 
thoughts for an instant to incline away from God 
and His eternal truth. You are safe, so long as you 
follow close in the footsteps of Jesus : walk in His light, 
and you will be led on from height to height, till you 
find yourself standing at the very gate of heaven. 

For, I would next remind you, that the process 
of thought may be so conducted as to deliver you 
from all evil. Whatever change for the better you 
experience, will be the result of some operation of 
thought. God moves upon the heart for its renewal, 
in accordance with those immutable laws of the 
mind which He has established. It is by no charm 
or conjuration that you are to be rescued from sin. 
You must be willing to meditate upon your condi- 



THOUGHT. 99 

tion as a transgressor against His law, to consider 

the holiness of that law, and the terrible conse- 
quences of disobedience. Thus } r ou will be led into 
all truth, and the truth will make you free. 

And, finally, remember that your thoughts are 
the only things accumulated here, which you can 
carry with you into the other world. There could 
be no consciousness of our identity in a future state, 
if these did not follow us. And our position there 
must depend upon the character of our thoughts 
here. The hour is coming, when every man will 
find his appropriate place, and be estimated just 
according to his intrinsic worth. This estimate will 
be decided simply and solely by the general style of 
his thoughts. And now it becomes a serious ques- 
tion, whether our present habits of mind are such, 
that we should be willing to expose our souls to the 
searching inspection of the spiritual world? Are they 
such as to make us more and more fit every day for 
the sublime employments of a future state of being? 

The time may seem to you, my young friends, 
so far off when you will be called to enter eternity, 
that there is no need of haste in the work of pre- 
paration. What is this work of preparation? Every 
process of your mind, from childhood to old age, 
enters into that work, and must develop its results 
hereafter. Every thing pertaining to life should be 



100 



THOUGHT.' 



a preparation for death-: or> more strictly, for that 
which comes after death. 

But how do you know that this great change, 
which is to usher you into another world, is so far 
off? I am here reminded of one young man, whose 
memory is precious to many of you, who, two short 
months ago, sat in this place a devout and earnest 
worshipper, and who, had he lived, would rejoice to 
have been here with us to-night. There lay before 
him the prospect of a long and useful life, but there 
was higher work for him to do in a higher sphere, 
and the Lord called him. I would that you could 
all have stood by his bed-side, when the hour of his 
departure drew near, to have seen what death really 
is to the young man who has cherished holy thoughts, 
and lived by the side of Jesus. One sentence, 
uttered by his dying breath, reveals it all. The last 
question which I asked him was, '.'Have you now 
any burden on your mind?" His eye flashed with 
joy, and, gathering up his departing strength, he an- 
swered, in atone of exultation, " 1 am perfectly happy /" 

"So live, that, when thy summons comes to join 
The innumerable caravan, that moves 
To that mysterious realm, where each shall take 
His chamber in the silent halls of death, 
Thou go not, like the quarry slave at night, 
Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed 
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave, 
Like one that draws the drapery of his couch 
About him, and ljes down to pleasant dreams," 



LECTURE VI 



TO YOUNG WOMEN. 



Titus ii. 4. — Teach the young women to he eoher. 

Most of the counsel which has been given in these 
lectures to young men — as to the influence of amuse- 
ments, books, and thought, upon the formation of 
character — applies with equal pertinency to young 
persons of the other sex. But there are some pecu- 
liarities in their condition and training, which make 
it proper for us to add a few suggestions with more 
special reference to their necessities and dangers. 
They are shielded, by their position, from many 
perils to which our young men are exposed, and 
whatever difference exists in the natural tempera- 
ment of the sexes, is also in their favor. And yet, 
in the present style of female education, in the 
habits of fashionable society, and in the sort of esti- 
mation with which they are greeted upon their 
entrance into the giddy world, there lie the germs 
9* 



202 T0 YOUNG WOMEN. 

of certain peculiar influences which are likely to 
induce an artificial and an unreal character. The 
absence of any thing like an earnest view of life, 
of its solemn significance, its serious responsibilities, 
and its profound relations to eternity, must, of neces- 
sity, vitiate and debilitate all the wholesome activi- 
ties of our nature. There is reason to fear that the 
popular style of female education tends to such a 
result. The undue preponderance given to what 
are called accomplishments, very naturally impresses 
the young person with the feeling that the great 
purpose of her present existence is to excite admira- 
tion. She reasons thus: there are beings who are 
designed for useful purposes, just as there are beasts 
of burden in the brute creation; but, as there are 
also birds with lithe wing and scarlet plumage, that 
sit all day in the tulip-tree, and warble their merry 
notes, so it is their vocation, upon whom Providence 
has conferred the gifts of female grace and beauty, 
to live among the roses, and make the landscape gay. 
"We would not withdraw from society that which 
adorns any more than that which profits the world: 
we would not undervalue accomplishments, for they 
are the indications of a refined civilization; but the 
human faculties were intended to subserve some 
higher purpose than the mere amusement of the 
hour. The mind is fitted to be a receptacle of some- 



TO YOUNG WOMEN. 103 

thing more substantial than the weakly sentimentali- 
ties of romance: the voice can accomplish nobler 
feats than the almost impossible execution of Italian 
musical sinuosities, which the honest Dr. Johnson 
fervently wished were quite impossible; the eye has 
a range of vision somewhat beyond the assortment 
of silken folds and the adjustment of delicate colors: 
the hand has more important work to do than to 
weave interminable patterns in frightful caricature 
of nature. It is better to talk sound sense in good 
English, than to chatter nonsense in barbarous 
French ; and even the true Parisian accent is a dear 
bargain if it must be accompanied with Parisian 
sentiment. It may be well for those who have a 
special gift, to spend six or eight hours per day over 
their music; but for young persons, as a class, thus 
to give themselves up, body and soul, to a pursuit 
in which they can never attain to any thing beyond 
a wearisome mediocrity, seems to be a somewhat 
unreasonable expenditure of time. When we con- 
sider the multitude of topics with which it is now 
presumed every educated young lady must become 
to some extent familiar ; a finished education, as it is 
singularly termed, is a matter of no small magni- 
tude. If the merely ornamental be made so promi- 
nent, it must be at the expense of the useful and 
more substantial. A very thin gilding may cover 



J04 T0 YOUNG WOMEN. 

over many defects; but it makes a species of ware 
that will not bear much use. 

There is this peculiar difference in the education 
of the two sexes. The boy, as soon as he reaches a 
certain age, is presumed to have his mind directed 
to some particular business or profession, and then 
to select and conduct his studies with reference to 
that vocation: this serves to give defmiteness to his 
aims, and obliges him to study for a distinct and 
positive end. With here and there an exception, 
young persons of the other sex are trained for no spe- 
cial and particular sphere of action They are there- 
fore in danger not only of giving an undue promi- 
nence to brilliant and external accomplishment, but 
also of making their studies too general and desultory. 

Within the last half-century there has been won- 
derful progress made in female education, and when 
it has been most rigidly and thoroughly conducted, 
our young women seem to have surpassed our young 
men, even in those sciences which are pre-eminently 
abstract and masculine. It still, however, remains 
true, that the want of a definite object in study, 
induces indefiniteness of knowledge: and when the 
years of school have been occupied with a superfi- 
cial glance at the whole encyclopedia of study, with- 
out really investigating any thing, as soon as the 
school tasks are over and life begins, all study is 



TO YOUNG WOMEN, 105 

likely to be thrown aside for ever. The Lady's 
Portfolio, with its plumbago engravings and pink- 
colored fashion-plates — with its billowy poetry, rock- 
ing the faculties to slumber — with its thrilling tales 
of human angels and human demons in conflict, 
where virtue always comes off triumphant — and 
with its summary of useless information at the close, 
is easier reading than matter-of-fact histories or phi- 
losophies of moral science, A novel may be de- 
voured at a sitting, by omitting all the reflections, 
and only leave, the appetite sharper at the close: 
while a dozen pages of the scientific essay, give to 
the mind so much food for reflection, that one must 
pause for a day to digest it. Here we have come 
upon one of the greatest evils to which the young 
women of this land are exposed — an evil which 
threatens the sanctity of their affections as well as 
the vigor of their intellect. A large part of our 
yellow-covered literature ought to be labelled, as 
poisons sometimes are, with the picture of a death's- 
head and cross-bones, and then you could make 
your purchase more intelligently. Every book we 
read leaves its impress upon the mind, for good or 
for evil: and if it do us no positive good, it causes a 
negative evil by its debilitating effect upon the facul- 
ties. Nothing is worth reading, which does not 
either convey some valuable information or excite 



106 TO YOUNG WOMEN. 

some healthy feeling. Fact is not only stranger than 
fiction, but a thousand fold more interesting, as soon 
as we rise to the higher truths of science. It excites 
an interest which is neither morbid nor evanescent, 
and which does not unnerve the energies of the 
soul by overstraining them. During the process of 
youthful education, you only reach the threshold of 
the great temple of truth, and the path is wearisome 
by which you arrive there; when your guide leaves 
you at the gate, will you decline to enter that glori- 
ous temple? Will you coolly turn your back upon 
the magnificent area, where every column is in- 
scribed with the history of a nation, and every 
science has its alcove, and every art its jewelled 
altar, and the azure dome glistens with starry words, 
pointing to holy and eternal spheres, where knowl- 
edge shall become complete? 

There- is another influence to which the young 
and accomplished woman is subjected in entering 
into society, which is unfavorable to the formation 
of a healthy and high-toned character: and that is 
the sort of estimation in which she is held, the pecu- 
liar position assigned to her, and the style of conver- 
sation with which she is addressed, not only by those 
of her own age, but often by older, and perhaps by 
wise and eminent men. It is the language of compli- 
ment and adulation with which she is first greeted 



TO YOUNG WOMEN. 107 

in the world; and a kind of deference is paid to her, 
even by those who hold the highest stations in soci- 
ety, that one, just emancipated from pupilage, finds 
it difficult to bear without giddiness. There is an 
idolatrous incense-burning offered to her by a crowd 
of worshippers, which is apt to make her feel that 
the world is at her feet, and the sceptre of dominion 
in her hand. The staple conversation in the fashion- 
able circle to which she is introduced, is not particu- 
larly instructive or elevating to the intellect. Earn- 
est thought and earnest feeling are alike banished 
from the morning levee and the midnight crowd, 
and graceful, polished trifling would seem to be the 
chief end of man and of woman. If the common 
conversation of such assemblages were recorded for 
quiet perusal, after the drawing-room is deserted, 
what a picture of humanity it would exhibit! What 
elaborate sentences, ending in nothing! What care- 
ful comparison of meteorological observations ! What 
painful struggles to be agreeable! What piquant 
criticisms of dress and character! What "precious 
distillings of small talk!" Truly, it is hard for the 
soul to breathe in such an atmosphere. As well 
might the lungs heave freely in the choke-damps of 
a mine. As well might the body thrive upon ashes. 
The style of character which is likely to be 
induced by such influences, we have called unreal 



208 T0 YOUNG WOMEN. 

and artificial. There always is a real character of 
some sort, belonging to every human being; but 
your training may be such that you keep that to be 
worn only in private, and appear before the public 
in a made-up character. There is a certain species 
of manner where every thing is said and done for 
effect — nothing is spontaneous, nothing is natural, 
nothing is real. The words come either languidly 
lengthened or delicately abbreviated ; and the inten- 
sity of their emphasis is in inverse proportion to 
their importance. All true emotion is systematically 
restrained; but, whenever it is demanded, counter- 
feit emotion can be produced to order in any con- 
ceivable degree of earnestness. It is easy to appear 
ignorant, where knowledge would be inconvenient; 
and by a little art it is not very difficult to affect to 
be well-informed, where ignorance would be dis- 
creditable. The eye that gazes upon vacancy when 
the poor relation passes by, recovers its optic power 
suddenly enough at the glistening dowager's ap- 
proach. The soft and gentle lie, which is so deli- 
cately uttered that it seems to lose half of its base- 
ness, becomes strangely familiar to lips that would 
quiver to pronounce an ill-bred word, and shriek 
with sentimental horror under the charge that they 
had lied. Now, this is a style of life which cannot 
be followed without affecting more than the outward 



TO YOUNG WOMEN. JQ9 

manners; it strikes into the soul, and corrodes the 
springs of its wholesome activity. There may be 
great external polish, but the rust hangs thick upon 
the wheels within. There may be grace of motion, 
but there is very little of "inward and spiritual 
grace." The admiration of silly men may be won, 
but it is at the sacrifice of true self-respect. 

There is another trait developed by the influences 
of which we have spoken, touching the vitality of 
elevated character, and that is, a refined and all-ab- 
sorbing selfishness. It may not manifest itself very 
offensively, but, in a quiet way, it manages to make 
every thing subservient to the individual's own com- 
fort and advantage. Other people have their appro- 
priate duties; but, so far as she is concerned, the 
w r ord duty is obsolete. Her business is, like that of 
the sun, to shine; while inferior satellites revolve 
about her. There is but little evidence of this sel- 
fishness in public, while the world is looking on;, 
but, in the privacy of the domestic circle, whera 
fathers, and mothers, and servants are the only 
observers, it appears full-fledged,, and they are made 
to feel their subordinate position. She has an 
indefinite notion that there would be a sort of 
degradation in any effort to make herself useful, — 
at any rate, it would he an effort, and that is a suffi- 
cient objection. All this maybe consistent with a 
10 



HO TO YOUNG WOMEN. 

kind of negative amiableness : she would not wish 
to see others inconvenienced, unless it be necessary 
to save her from inconvenience. Now, if discipline, 
or self-denial and restraint, lie at the very founda- 
tion of noble character, it is a grievous evil when 
selfish indulgence becomes the leading principle of 
life. No matter what form it takes,, no matter how 
it masks itself, no matter how inoffensive it may 
seem, the soul gradually collapses under its blight- 
ing influence. There may be all the sweetness of 
an angel in the outward demeanor, but there is little 
which an angel would be willing to acknowledge in 
the heart. 

Another habit follows close upon selfishness, and 
that is indolence and the prodigal waste of time. 
It is impossible to be always in society, but how 
wearily the hours drag, which must be passed in 
solitude or in the monotonous home-circle. Labor 
is distasteful, thought is painful, amusement is 
impossible. The sluggish motion, the drooping eye- 
lid, the languid accent, show that the fountain of 
energy is sinking very low. Eepose is grateful, but 
there is no repose where there is no effort. God has 
conferred no gift so sparingly as the gift of time: 
but there is nothing which some appear to value so 
lightly. An hour lost, is lost for ever, and can never 
be redeemed. An indolent habit, formed in youth, 



TO YOUNG WOMEN. 

it is almost impossible to overcome in after life. It 
is a rare thing to see a man or a woman, who has 
vegetated in idleness during the season of y 
become of any great use to the world in maturer 
years. If this be so, what have we to anticipate 
from a large proportion of those young men and 
women amongst us, whose fathers would seem to 
have toiled successfully, only to free these children 
from all necessity of labor? The experience of the 
next generation will give a melancholy answer to 
this question. 

In intimate connection with the point which we 
just considered, stands another alarming evil, to 
which our young women are in their way as much 
exposed as young men, and that is, the want of con- 
stant and varied external excitement to relieve the 
tedium of existence. It is an unfortunate indication 
when one is dependant upon society, public amuse- 
ments, and the various fashionable devices to kill 
time, for the essential stimulus of life. When the 
nours which intervene between the usual seasons of 
recreation are anxiously numbered, with the fervent 
wish that they were gone; when the memory of the 
last brilliant fete, and the anticipation of the revelry 
next to come, furnish the material of thought ; when. 
all the simple pleasures of home become distasteful, 
and all serious study is counted a nuisance, and all 



112 T0 YOUNG WOMEN, 

solemn reflections are deliberately banished from the 
mind; when all repose of the heart is changed for 
a feverish restlessness, an aching desire for excite- 
ment, a morbid discontent; it indicates that the sor- 
cery of the world has well nigh finished its destruc- 
tive work. Beware, then, of the beginnings of 
this evil! 

There is another habit into which young persons 
often fall, which we feel constrained to notice, and 
that is the flippant criticism in which they indulge 
upon men and things, degenerating sometimes into 
a cool contempt for that which they know very little 
about, and probably are not yet competent to under- 
stand. This criticism is of no special importance, 
except so far as it reacts upon the character of the 
person who is the author of it, and thus induces 
mischievous results. It originates in a sense of fan- 
cied superiority, but is very far from leaving any 
such impression of the critic's superiority upon the 
minds of others. It may be made piquant and 
amusing, and thus elicit the applause even of those 
who know its intrinsic worthlessness. It is, how- 
ever, not the opinion which is commended, but only 
the smartness with which it is uttered ; and its very 
absurdity may be its chief recommendation. 

There is something in the spirit of the age which 
seems to foster this ungracious flippancy in young 



TO YOUNG WOMEN, -j^o 

persons, and sonic of them arc impressed with the 
notion that they receive, by intuition, all which the 
generations before them have learned by investiga- 
tion. The fathers can teach them nothing, for the 
fathers belong to the things which are passing away. 
Didactic advice is old-fashioned, and has gone out 
with the catechisms. There was once an interme- 
diate age between that of childhood and maturity, 
during which, subjection to authority still continued, 
and we looked for docility, teachableness, reverence 
for superior age and wisdom, modesty of judgment, 
submissiveness of mind, and a general willingness 
to be guided by the elders. That is a period of 
existence which is now well nigh abrogated. It has 
gone out with the catechism. It may possibly be re- 
stored again, after the trial of one or two generations. 
There is one more evil which prevails too much 
among the young women of the present day, and 
that is a growing distaste for earnest, serious thought. 
This is certainly a vital evil. When that truth which. 
bears most directly upon our eternal well-being, only 
furnishes food for ridicule, and is answered with a 
sneer; when that great science, which has God for 
its centre and God for its circumference, is counted 
obsolete; when reverence is treated as a superstition, 
and faith as an absurdity ; when it is thought ill-bred 
to name the sacred name of Jesus with solemnity; 
10* 



H4 TO YOUNG WOMEN. 

it is time to pause. If these are subjects which, 
must be banished from the mind and from the lips, 
and if, instead of -those strong, substantial truths, 
upon which they who have gone before us nour- 
ished their souls and were ripened for immortality, 
you are to be fed only with the weak dilution of 
sentiment which prevails in the rose-water ethics of 
the day; alas for you, and alas for the world! 

Let me, therefore, remind you of a few certain 
facts in your future destiny. This present season of 
youth, with its brilliancy and gayety, will last but a 
little while. If you live only for the admiration of 
the gay and thoughtless, you must be content to 
have a short reign. The time is not far off, when 
flattery would sound impertinent. The fairest face, 
in a score or two of years, will be furrowed, — the 
brightest eye, dulled, — the sweetest voice, grow mi- 
ni elodious, — and the most graceful form, be bowed 
with age. I do not remind you of this to impair 
the cheerfulness of youth, but that you may remem- 
ber, if present enjoyment be all that you regard, you 
are providing for a career that will very soon be 
over. And it is worth considering, what you will 
have to fall back upon, when the morning has past 
and the noon-tide has come : how you will feel, when 
the noon-tide is past, and evening draws on. Is it 
well that you should now exhaust all the sources of 



TO YOUNG WOMEN. H5 

happiness? Is it well to lay up no treasures for the 
future? If you shrink from self-discipline now, 
remember that you must pay for this hereafter. 
There is no repairing the loss of a wasted youth. 
Repentance may bring salvation, but it cannot re- 
store the advantages which } t ou now throw away. 

Consider, again, what lies before you in the pres- 
ent world. There are certain experiences, the com- 
mon lot of humanity, for which it is well that you 
should make some provision. You cannot be merry 
always. Stern duties may, ere long, weigh heav- 
ily upon you, sterner disappointments may streAV 
your soul with ashes, sickness may turn your days 
into darkness and your nights into agony, the death 
of those you love the best may cover the heavens 
with a pall. The day that opens with the brightest 
sunshine may not have advanced far beyond the 
morning, before the clouds gather, and the cold 
storm comes sweeping by. Arm yourself, therefore, 
for the inevitable future. Strengthen your soul for 
the day of calamity. You will lose nothing of genu- 
ine happiness even now, by thus securing yourself 
against utter desolation hereafter. Whatever will in 
the future arouse bitter memories, it becomes you 
now to avoid, even for the sake of your present 
peace. The pleasure which leaves a sting behind it, 
is never genuine or wholesome. All excess must, 



116 TO YOUNG WOMEN. 

by the laws of nature, be balanced by correspondent 
sufferings. 

Remember one -thing further, and that is, the fact 
of your immortality. It is possible that some of you 
will be called hence before the spring-time of life is 
over. The bud may fall from the stalk, before it 
opens into the flower. The snow of the next win- 
ter may lie upon your grave. Or, } t ou ma} r linger 
till your fourscore years are all fulfilled, till youth 
has ripened into maturity, and maturity declined 
into old age, before you are summoned to the land 
of spirits. " In any event, it is certain that you will 
remain here only for a season, and that after you 
have done with this mortal body, you will live in 
some other world, where you must reap the fruits of 
your labor here. If that labor has been all expended 
upon vanity, what is your prospect for eternity? If 
you have sown to the wind, you must reap the whirl- 
wind. If you have forgotten God's law, you must 
endure the penalty. If you have been ashamed of 
Jesus before men, He will be ashamed of you before 
the angels. 

The season of youth is, in some respects, the most 
precious and the most eventful in our whole exist- 
ence. It is the period in which we take a direction 
that may affect our course for ever. It is the time 
when we form our habits. It is the time when God's 



TO VOT.NC WO M F.N'. Hf 

Spirit moves the soul most effectually. It is the time 
when cares are few. It is the $ime when hope is 
brightest. It is the time when danger is greatest. 
And what a thought it is that this is the dawning 
of an eternal existence; that the lines which are now 
written upon the soul, will be legible for ever ! 0, 
conform your lives to this great fact! Let no day 
pass, and leave you weaker at its close. Let not the 
blandishments of flattery cause you to forget your 
frailty and your responsibility. Determine to be of 
some use in the w r orld. If you have influence over 
others, use it so that they will have cause to bless 
you after the voice of adulation has ceased to be 
heard. God has given to you a power which no 
other earthly beings possess, and your lightest words 
have w r eight for good or for evil. Your sneer may 
nullify the strongest argument for truth, as your 
smile of approval for the truth may render the argu- 
ment superfluous. The holy and quiet example of 
a true woman does more for society, than the thun- 
dering eloquence of the platform. It distils as the 
dew. It is like the warm breath of spring upon the 
ice. It melts the frozen heart, and the waters flow 
out. In the hours of heaviest calamity, the strong 
lean upon the weak. When the tempest rushes by, 
the oak may be held to its place by the yielding 
vine which entwines it. The woman's instinct is 



JIQ TO YOUNG WOMEN. 

often surer than the man's reason. She seizes by 
intuition what he induces by demonstration. In the 
time of prevailing unbelief, her faith sustains the 
ark of God. When the courage of man failed him, 
she would not forsake her Savior. 0, it is a high 
and holy vocation which is assigned to you. Do not 
despise it. Do not throw it away. Do not unfit 
yourself by luxury and selfishness for its fulfilment. 
Life is a serious thing. It may not seem so in the 
first flush of youth, when the song, and the dance, 
and the giddy laugh, fill up the round of existence ; 
but when we have passed through the golden gate 
of youth, and see that many who started with us in 
the course, have already traveled on beyond the 
iron portal of death, and feel that we too are fast 
nearing the final goal, we cannot but pause, and ask 
ourselves, why has (xod made us what we are, and 
whither are we tending? That time of sober thought 
may seem to you far off, but it will be upon you 
almost instantly. "You are leaving the spring of 
life, and are floating fast from the shady sources of 
your years, into heat, bustle, and storm. Your 
dreams are now faint, flickering shadows, that play 
like fire-flies in the coppices of leafy June. They 
have no joys to promise, greater than the joys that 
belong to your present life; they have no terrors, 
but such terrors as the darkness of a spring night 



TO YOUNG WOMEN. HQ 

makes. You forget that summer is even now low- 
ering with its mist upon the hem of your flowery 
May." The future ! it comes upon us with stealthy 
step, but it lingers not. The future ! it comes upon 
us with dread experiences, but we know them not. 
The future! the eternal future! it comes upon us 
with its solemn reckonings, but we heed them not I 
Make your peace with God, before the evil day 
draws near. And then it will matter little if you 
are "early called/' for you will grow to your matu- 
rity, where the flowers are brighter, and the winds 
are softer, and affections are purer, than they can 
ever be on this fallen earth. 



LECTURE VII. 

PURITY A SOURCE OF STRENGTH. 

Job xvii. 9. — He that hath clean hands shall be stronger and stronger 

It was a saying of the great sacred poet of Eng- 
land, the illustrious Milton, " To be weak is the true 
misery." A vacillating mind, an infirm will, inabil- 
ity to resist temptation, is, indeed, " the true misery." 
It depends mainly upon our early discipline, whether 
or not this shall be the character of our life. The 
young man is strong, not in his acquirements, but 
in his capacities ; his powers are for the most part 
latent ; and they may be indefinitely expanded, or, by 
neglect, they may shrivel and go to decay. 

There is always something admirable in strength. 
It is natural for us to reverence power. Men have 
worshipped the oak because it is strong and enduring; 
and the sun, because it goes forth in its might ; and 
the elements, because they are irresistible. When 
they find a man stronger than themselves, they are 
11 



122 PURITY A SOURCE 

inclined to worship him, and thus the pagan calendar 
is rilled with deified heroes. 

Even mechanical power is sometimes sublime ; if 
you have ever been down in the hold of a great ocean 
steamer, when the wind has been thundering in the 
heavens, and the waves, with every pulsation, open- 
ing a new grave for the gigantic ship, and watched 
the orderly rising and falling of the iron piston ; the 
great metallic heart moving with scarcely a jar or a 
sound, and steadily propelling the mighty mass, of 
which it is the life, in defiance of wind and wave ; 
you must have felt that though the tempest which 
destroys is grand, the mechanism which overcomes 
the tempest is grander. 

But there is a higher power than that of the ele- 
ments, or of the skill which defies the elements ; and 
that is the strength of a holy will, which rides upon 
the stormy waves of passion, and bids the tempest 
of sin be still. " He that hath clean hands and a 
pure heart" is endowed with the very might of God ; 
" he shall ascend the hill of the Lord," and from 
that serene and holy height hold all the powers of 
the air in subjection. 

I speak unto you, young men, because I would 
have you know that you are strong just in propor- 
tion as your hands are clean. You are environed by 
temptations • every time you yield, it is just so much 



OF STRENGTH. 123 

detracted from your essential power as men. Every 
lustful thought that you harbor corrodes and viti- 
ates the fibre of your soul. Every sinful deed that 
you commit unnerves your arm and makes it 
weaker. Every false, profane or lascivious word 
that you utter pollutes the atmosphere which you 
breathe, and turns it into poison, so that you inhale 
miasma which your own breath has created. 

Those of you who stand to-night on the threshold 
of life have your future in your own hands ; if you 
so will, every day may bring with it its own peculiar 
blessing; you may go on, from the beginning to the 
end of your pilgrimage, gaining new strength, new 
knowledge, and new grace, continually. But in a 
few short years, which will have gone like a flash, 
this future will be past, and its errors and follies it 
will be too late to remedy. And if you could read 
the secret experience of those who, in their maturity, 
are forced to look back upon a youth unimproved 
and wasted, — if you could see the struggles which 
they constantly endure, for want of that early dis- 
cipline which would have made all after-toil a pleas- 
ure, — if you could know the agonies they suffer 
in striving to throw off the dominion of evil habits, 
acquired and fostered by youthful indulgence ; if 
you could only read the bitter memories which rob 
the past of all its sweetness, and make retrospection 



124 PURITY A SOURCE 

a torment ; I tell you, my young friends, there is 
not one of you that would not resolve this night, 
praying on your knees for God's help, to overcome 
your native depravity, to crush every evil habit in 
the germ, to shun all vice without, and all unholy 
fancies within, and consecrate every faculty of your 
being to the service of Christ, of humanity, and of 
truth. 

I am well aware that you may readily admit all 
this, and acknowledge how desirable it is, in the 
present most critical period of your existence, that your 
habits of life and your inward processes of thought 
should be conformed to the laws of purity and recti- 
tude ; and still you may feel that, with the nature 
you have inherited, and under the outward pressure 
of temptation which encircles you, it is almost im- 
possible to retain your integrity. I know the perils 
of your position, the strange contagion of example, 
the false notions of manliness which prevail, the 
tremendous effort which it costs to withstand a false 
public opinion, the subtle avenues through which 
vice creeps into the soul, the strong propensity 
which prompts the young man to seek for some fac- 
titious excitement in the hour of empty lassitude, 
the peculiar dangers which grow out of the simple 
fact that many of you have no household circle to 
cheer you with its sober pleasures when the labor of 



OF STRENGTH. 125 

the day is over. I know that, if you will, you can 
find access to the haunts of vice; no restriction of 
law can effectually shield you from peril. The way 
of death is open before you if you see fit to travel 
there. The greedy minister of Satan will mingle 
strong drink for you, if you will only pay him for it. 
The chamber of hell is accessible, if you will only 
turn in thither. The obscene book can be had for 
money, if you wish to defile your spirit with its 
loathsome fancies ; the gambler's den can be found, 
if you are willing to rob your father's or your 
employer's purse; the infidel will enlighten you 
with his blasphemies, if you will only listen ; you 
may, if you so choose, unman yourself in your 
youth, waste your strength, debilitate your energies, 
lay up in store terrible memories for the time to 
come, turn your back upon God, trample the cross 
of Jesus under foot, and thus fit yourselves for a 
miserable eternity ; but, on the other hand, it is also 
possible for you to break through all these enchant- 
ments, and overcome the evil one. I know, indeed, 
how difficult it may be for some of you to do this. 
Your nature craves after some excitement, some- 
thing to fill the mind ; you are at an age when the 
elastic forces of your being must have some vent ; 
you are at an age which demands change and variety 
of occupation ; and so, when the hours of business 
11* 



126 PURITY A SOURCE 

are through, and night draws on, you sit there in 
your solitary chamber dreaming dreams with your 
eyes open, carelessly leaving the door of the soul 
wide open for unhallowed fancies to enter in and 
take possession ; and then the way is prepared for ex- 
ternal temptation to assault the citadel, for there is a 
traitor within waiting to give the enemy entrance 
there. In this crisis a godly education often proves 
to be of little avail ; a mere abstract conviction of 
right gives but little strength ; the immediate temp- 
tation, the feverish thirst for excitement, the want of 
anything else to fill the vacuum in the soul, drives 
the young man to do that against which all the 
better feelings of his nature utter their loud remon- 
strance. You do not mean to follow up a regular 
career of dissipation ; for once you will drown care 
in the short delirium of the cup ; for once you will test 
the strange sorcery of the dice, and risk a trifle of 
your father's earnings ; for once you will cross the 
threshold of yonder den of pollution, although you 
know that your mother would rather wrap you in 
your grave-clothes and lay you in your narrow cof- 
fin, than see you enter there. But all this shall be 
only for o?ice, — you will just taste the poison, and 
then dash the cup in pieces. But do you think that 
the impulse, which now urges you to violate your 
conscience and tamper with the devil, will never be 



OF STRENGTH. 127 

felt again? Do you not know that it will return 
upon you with redoubled fury because of this first 
indulgence ? Do you not know that, by this one act 
of sin, you have, as it were, broken the muscle of 
your soul, and forfeited your freedom ? 

" All this is plain enough," you answer, restively. 
u We know it to be true by a bitter experience ; but 
what we wish to learn is, how the danger can be 
averted and the evil stayed ? We do not want to 
hear the general common-places of virtue ; we k?iow 
what is right well enough ; but we wish you to tell 
us just what we must do to deliver ourselves out of 
the hand of the adversary. We feel the cords tight- 
ening about our limbs; some of us have already 
passed beyond the first stage in the road to hell, but 
none of us wish to finish that journey ; none of us 
wish that a blight should come over our whole ex- 
istence here and hereafter ; none of us are ambitious 
to be the ulcers of society. Tell us how we can be 
saved ? " 

The first thing that I would say to you, is, culti- 
vate a sound, healthy, cheerful physical condition. 
A morbid state of the body provokes morbid fancies, 
and an appetite for unnatural and mischievous ex- 
citement. The machine should be kept in good 
working order. Physical inertia will induce mental 
and moral torpor. A tainted body will impart its 



128 PURITY A SOURCE 

taint to the soul. Firmness of nerve must exist in 
order to the firm action of the will. Enlivening ex- 
ercise, manly out-door sports, which toughen the 
sinews, make the blood course blithely through the 
veins, give the heart a strong and steady beat, — this 
I declare to be one of the most effectual preservatives 
against the withering corrosion of vice. We should 
have men of stronger minds and a sterner moral pur- 
pose, if our youth more generally regarded the natu- 
ral laws of their physical being. If they would only 
fill up their vacant hours with that species of amuse- 
ment which leaves them sturdier, and brighter, and 
stronger than they were before ; if they would culti- 
vate a taste for the natural and the beautiful ; if they 
loved the forest and the glen ; if it were joy enough 
for them to climb the mountain-top, or with strained 
arm to drive the skiff through the parted wave ; if 
such were their recreations, they would as soon seek 
for pleasure in a charnel-house as in the stifled and 
reeking atmosphere of the bar-room, the gambling- 
saloon, or the brothel. 

One of the most prominent causes of the demor- 
alization of our young men is attributable to the 
absence of such a healthy taste as I have described, 
and the community ought to provide for the culture 
of this taste. We ought to have public walks, with 
trees, and shrubbery, and fountains, and statuary, 



OF STRENGTH. 129 

and flowers ; and we ought to have picture-galleries, 
and gymnasia, and all that variety of attractive and 
innocent amusements which is practicable. We 
ought to recognize the real wants of the young, and 
remember that something more is needed than 
solemn frowns and fervent expostulation, to keep them 
from the path of vice and ruin. There is a super- 
abundant vitality in the young, which must find a 
vent somewhere ; and if you think to keep all quiet 
by just chaining down the valves, then look out for 
an explosion ! What miserable mistakes are made 
in the training of our children ! There is tenfold 
more of wisdom displayed in the management of 
fruit-trees and cattle, than has ever yet been shown 
in the culture of men. We feed the minds of the 
young with the costliest food, while, perhaps, their 
moral nature is left to prey on garbage. Or we store 
their hearts with the noblest moral precepts, and 
then leave their bodies to grow up as it happens, 
unrestrained and undirected. We prune the young 
tree with care, and keep the surface free from all 
unsightly excrescences, and then wonder to see it 
wilt and shrivel, — wonder that it has so little vigor, 
wonder that it bears so little fruit, — when, if we 
would only examine with care, we should find a 
worm working its way up from the root through 
the very core of the tree, and sapping its strength at 



130 PURITY A SOURCE 

the centre. It is the vice which seizes hold of the 
physical part of their nature, which is most to be 
dreaded in our young men ; if you can keep their 
bodies pure, their passions subdued, their whole 
organism healthy, firm, elastic, cheerful, vigorous, 
you will have comparatively little difficulty in train- 
ing their minds, or in quickening their consciences. 
But if the machinery is all out of order, if the joints 
are loose, the bands flaccid, the springs feeble, there 
is little to be hoped for from the mere perfunctory 
culture of the mind and soul. The human race will 
never make much progress until all this is better 
understood than it is at present. 

Meanwhile, let me say to these young men, that, if 
you would not have your sun go down before it is 
noon, — if you would not forfeit your own respect, and 
expose yourself to open shame, — beware of all unnat- 
ural and factitious excitement ; keep your fancy un- 
tainted; guard well your thoughts; avoid every form 
of artificial stimulant ; keep the temple of your soul 
undefiled, that God may make it his residence. 
Begin now to exercise stern self-restraint in every- 
thing which your conscience forbids ; check the 
beginnings of evil ; stop the starting ball before it 
rolls itself into an avalanche; extinguish the fire 
before it envelops you in its flames. Now is the 
day of your salvation. These early years may be 



OF STRENGTH. 131 

the crisis of your existence. They* will inevitably 
stamp an indelible impress upon that existence. If 
you should do evil now, and afterwards, through 
God's grace, recover, you would rise up weakened, 
soiled and degraded, in your own eyes. It is a 
thousand-fold better not to sin, than to sin and then 
repent. God may forgive us, but we cannot forgive 
ourselves. Heaven may be opened to us hereafter, 
but there can be no heaven for us here on earth. 
Life loses its bloom when the hand of corruption 
has brushed across it. And, then, remember, you 
may not repent. In the evil path which you now 
choose you may travel on to the end, down, down to 
those gloomy regions of moral darkness, where no 
sunbeam ever shines. If you have entered that 
path, stop where you are ; take not another step ; 
stop where you are, and cry unto God for rescue. 
One more step may seal your doom ! 

The second general suggestion that I would make 
is this : Employment of some sort, either of body or 
mind, is an indispensable safeguard against the at- 
tacks of temptation. Every young man should 
endeavor to find out the work which he was made 
to do, and then do it with all his might. It does not 
matter whether we are obliged to labor for a living 
or not ; every human being should remember that 
God made him for something. There is some pur- 



132 PURITY A SOURCE 

suit, some object of existence, congenial to his 
nature, which he is bound to pursue, and which he 
must pursue, if he would do justice to himself, and 
shield his soul from danger. If he be free to do it, 
and his taste run in that direction, let him throw 
himself into the field of scientific research, or grapple 
with some profound study, which will absorb his 
energies, quicken the pulses of his being, preoccupy 
his mind with grand and wholesome thoughts ; and 
in such a soil as this, reptiles and weeds will find 
no place to burrow and to grow. Or let him iden- 
tify himself with some species of philanthropic effort, 
consecrate his wealth and his leisure to the reform 
and elevation and amelioration of society, becoming 
thus a radiant centre of blessed influences ; and 
then the devil will be very certain to let him alone. 
Or if he must labor with his head or his hands to 
secure a livelihood, let him labor with a will, 
steadily, faithfully, perseveringly, like one who 
hopes to succeed, and means to succeed, if it can be 
done with a good conscience ; and then the appetite 
for unwholesome pleasure will gradually die out of 
itself. One ruling purpose is all of which the mind 
is capable. A man cannot look upward and down- 
ward at the same moment. Weeds grow where the 
soil is not tilled. Rust gathers where the iron is not 
used. Water stagnates where it does not flow. 



OF STRENGTH. 133 

Foul vapors settle where there is no wind. And 
vicious fancies enter in when the chambers of the 
soul are empty. 

It is not easy to see how a young man, who lives 
for no particular purpose, all the cords of whose 
being are habitually unstrung, lounging through life 
in search of nothing, can keep himself free from the 
deadly taint of vice. He may not be profane, or in- 
temperate, or riotous, or openly licentious; he may 
seem to be harmless, so far as his general influence 
goes ; but there must be a gradual corrosion of the 
fibre of his being, that will eat up all his manliness in 
the end. Timber sometimes looks fair enough on 
the surface, when it is all worm-eaten within, and, 
if struck a hard blow, would fall in a cloud of 
ashes. We have too many youths of this sort, of 
good outward manners, but there is a dry rot in 
their souls. They occupy some little space in the 
world : but, weighed in the balance, their specific 
gravity is next to nothing. If they do no special 
harm, they are in the way of those who wish to do 
good. They produce nothing, while, at the same 
time, they are vast consumers. In short, their ex- 
istence proves to be a failure ; and, if there were no 
other world but the present, this would, perhaps, be 
the worst that could be said of them. Are any of you 
willing to have this for your epitaph, when you leave 
12 



134 PURITY A SOURCE 

the earth : " Here lies one, who was born at such a 
time, and died on such a day ; and in the interim 
did nothing but eat and drink and make himself 
comfortable " ? Are you willing that your existence 
should prove a failure ? Are you willing that the 
wonderful powers with which God had endowed 
you should never be used ? Are you willing to die, 
and leave no mark to show that you have ever 
lived 7 

In the next place, let me say, that you must cul- 
tivate a manly individuality, if you would be pro- 
tected from the contagion of sin. When you know that 
you are right, dare to stand alone. Now, there are 
many young men, who are actually ashamed to 
obey the dictates of their own conscience. They 
sometimes seem to count it an honor to be esteemed 
more proficient in vice than they really are. They 
affect the swagger of the old veteran body-guard of 
Satan. They swear in public, and repent of it in pri- 
vate. They drink with a shout and a gasp the vile 
compound which they loathe. They join the bac- 
chanalian rout when they would much rather be 
quiet in their bed. They profess to despise the 
authority which, in their hearts, they secretly rever- 
ence. And there is sometimes a tyrannical public 
opinion, demanding of young men, as the condition 
of good-fellowship, certain sinful compliances, which 



OF STRENGTH. 135 

it is almost martyrdom to resist. But he who is 
strong enough to stand aloof, and say by his conduct, 
11 1 will do right if the heavens fall," though he 
may for a while encounter averted looks, will assur- 
edly, in the end, win the respect even of his opponents. 
They may curl the lip because others do, but in 
their souls they will feel that they stand in the pres- 
ence of their superior. And they may possibly Avish 
that they themselves had the moral courage to imi- 
tate his example. 

Again, it is well that you should consider this 
fact, that the experiences of your youth will furnish 
the material of your memories in after life. You 
are ail exerting an influence of some sort upon each 
other; you are giving direction to each other's 
thoughts, and habits, and principles: some years 
hence you will see the results of these impressions, 
for good or for evil. And let this be remembered, 
that, while you may personally recover, in a meas- 
ure, from the effects of early vice, the companion 
whom you have taken by the hand and guided 
into the downward road, may never be rescued. 
Some twenty or thirty years hence, I imagine that I 
see you seated in your comfortable mansion, with a 
little household-circle around, who have been taught 
to love and revere your name. Though, in your 
earlier days, you were somewhat noted for your 



136 PURITY A SOURCE 

vices., you managed in good season to extricate your- 
self from the entanglements of a dissipated life, jou 
gave yourself assiduously to business, the world 
gradually forgot your youthful wanderings, fortune 
favored you, posts of influence opened before you ; 
and now, in your maturity, you have taken your 
accredited place in the very front rank of society. 
Meanwhile, that companion of yours, whom you 
induced, somewhat against his will, to throw off the 
awkwardness of innocence and break through the 
restraints of a godly training, has never rallied as 
you have done, but has continued all along to travel 
in the direction which you first gave his footsteps. 
How would it please you, some thirty years hence, 
to see him enter your mansion, and there, in the 
presence of your children, sit down and talk over the 
reminiscences of your youthful days ? His face was 
fair, and his brow was open, and his eye was clear, 
when you first knew him : he had an elastic step, 
a bounding heart, and his merry laugh rung out as 
cheerily as the lark's note in the spring; in his in- 
fancy he was sung to sleep with cradle hymns, and 
many a silent prayer was breathed over him as he 
slumbered in his mother's arms; a father's eye had 
watched the opening of the flower with such a 
manly tenderness as only fathers know ; and, up to 
the time when he went forth into the world from 



OF STRENGTH. 137 

that quiet home, he had always breathed the sacred 
atmosphere of a sister's holy love. But, in a fatal 
hour, he touched pitch, and was denied. He toojc 
the hand of the leper, and caught the foul infection. 
At first his heart failed him, and his conscience stung 
him like an adder, when he tried to shape his words 
into profane and lascivious speech. He became 
ashamed of virtue before he had really learned to 
love vice. He began by pretending to be worse than 
he was, and ended with being worse than he pre- 
tended. And now, thirty years afterward, he has 
comeback to visit you, — an old, weather-beaten, tat- 
tered wreck, with a face seamed and blotched, a 
leering, lustreless, lowering eye ; with trembling 
hands and tottering knees ; ragged, filthy, bent and 
shrunken : the very light that was in him turned to 
darkness. I remember such a man, who used to 
haunt the college chambers where I was a student, 
a quarter of a century ago ; one who had been a 
classmate with the distinguished man who then pre- 
sided over the university, and had graduated with 
the highest honors ; one who had entered upon life 
with the fairest prospects ; and now, as old age drew 
on, he was seen limping from room to room, exhibit- 
ing to the students a stuffed bird which he carried 
under his arm, begging from them in return a few cop- 
pers or their cast-ofT clothes, and, at the same time, 
12* 



138 PURITY A SOURCE 

distilling moral poison as he went. Occasionally, 
indeed, there would gleam forth some flashes of his 
original power and youthful intelligence, and then he 
would talk learnedly and almost profoundly. Once, 
when he thought he was alone, I saw him standing 
before the mirror, and, after taking a careful survey 
of his haggard face and ragged form, I heard him 

say softly to himself, "Is this R J ?" 

There was a world of meaning in these few words ; 
and what a tide of hot and bitter thoughts must have 
rushed across his mind as he stood there, taking, as 
it were, an inventory of his bankrupt life ! 

But I return to the fancy scene that I was sketch- 
ing ; — God grant that it may never become as real as 
this story was ! I have imagined you and that boy, 
whom you are, perhaps, now teaching the catechism 
of Satan, to come together again, face to face, some 
thirty years hence, at your own fire-side ; and I can 
fancy that I hear him thus addressing you : " My 
eld friend, the companion of my youth, we have 
met -again, after a long separation. You have gone 
one way, and I have gone another. You led me 
into a path which you have since forsaken ; but in 
which I have continued to travel up to the present 
hour. I still, however, look upon you as my 
teacher, for you first initiated me in the school of 
vice. I owe it to you that the blush of innocence 



OF STRENGTH. 139 

faded from my cheek, and that my face is now 
withered and blanched with the leprosy of sin. I 
owe it to yon that my knees totter with premature 
decrepitude, that my fevered blood is on fire with 
poison, and all my energies are blasted forever. I 
owe it to yon that I am now despised and an out- 
cast. I once knew how to pray ; yon first taught 
me to blaspheme. I once was not afraid to look up 
to God ; I now shudder at the mention of his dread- 
ful name. In the innocence of childhood, I once 
clung to my father's knee, and laid my head trust- 
ingly upon his shoulder ; I have since brought down 
his gray hairs with sorrow to the grave. My own 
grave will soon be dug, and then I will wait for you 
on the other side at the judgment. You and I will 
be judged together; you as the teacher, and I as 
your pupil ! " 

You are laying up in store memories for the time 
to come. You are writing inscriptions on the clay, 
that are hardening into stone. Think of this when 
the next temptation assails you. Consider where 
the course which you are now pursuing, if you fol- 
low it to the end, will bring you. I look on the left, 
and I see you wandering amidst scenes of splendid 
enchantment. The atmosphere is loaded with a 
perfume which intoxicates and bewilders every 
sense. There are sweet arbors of repose, carpeted 



140 PURITY A SOURCE 

with flowers, where the eye of the serpent, glisten- 
ing in his raiment of braided jewels, charms to 
slumber the poor youth, weary in the chase for 
pleasure. There is music in the air, but there is 
nothing celestial in its strains. There are trees 
laden with fruit, like that of which our first mother 
ate, pleasant to the eye and sweet to the taste. And 
here, in this enchanted land, I see 3?"ou journeying 
for a while ; and then the scene changes. You have 
now approached the region where the horizon of 
time melts away into the boundlessness of eternity ; 
your mortal life is vanishing. The journey is about 
over, and the end is coming. It looks like a desert 
and most dreary place which you have now reached. 
There is not a tree or a flower blooming there ; it is 
all dry, and sandy, and desolate. The setting sun 
throws a long shadow backward, as you stand 
there near the edge of that dread horizon. Ah ! you 
are looking back along the line of that shadow ! 
Can you see the enchanted land that was once your 
Elysium 2 What is it that I hear you whispering to 
yourself? " Would God I could go back, — back of 
that enchanted land, — and begin my life once more ! 
I would not journey this way again ! " You 
were warned in season. But what is this ? Even 
before the sun has set, I see a dark cloud rising 
between you and the fading light ; and on that cloud 



OF STRENGTH. 141 

there flashes forth the whole history of your life. 
And while it lightens with those jagged characters, 
I hear a low roll of thunder, which also seems to 
shape itself into articulation, and it echoes the same 
words which the lightning writes on that cloudy 
pall. And cold winds are sweeping up from that 
river of death, and the swell of its mournful mono- 
tone all the while fills the air, while the thunder is 
silent. And this is the old age of the dissolute ; 
this is the doleful end. Sunset, and not a star 
comes forth in the heavens. The day almost over, 
and not one blessed memory to cheer its close ! 

But, on the right, there shines another picture, 
glowing with gold and vermilion. There, also, the 
sun is setting; but, as it goes down, the whole 
firmament glows with stars. Evening is approach- 
ing, but it sheds rest and peace from its sable wings. 
Angelic music steals down from the upper heavens, 
and white-robed spirits hover above the river of 
death, in whose silver bosom their brilliancy is 
reflected. The good old pilgrim, who has walked 
hand in hand with Jesus over many a rough place, 
■ — who early turned aside from the enchanted land, 
because Jesus would not go with him there, — who 
wore the harness in his youth, and fought many a 
weary battle there, — now feels that he is coming to 
the threshold of his eternal home. He can look 



142 PURITY A SOURCE 

back with holy exultation ; not wishing to go back, 
except that he might serve his Master better, but 
desiring to depart. Every hour he listens eagerly 
for his summons home; and, when it comes, it 
sounds to him like a benediction. " Let me die the 
death of the righteous, and let my last end be like 
his ! " 

And now, young men, which of these destinies 
do you choose ? Are you willing to expend your 
best energies upon that which hereafter you will 
look back upon with loathing 1 Will you allow the 
springs of life, now that they are new and fresh, to 
be corroded and destroyed ? Will you sleep on, 
dreaming foul dreams, when the blithe hours of 
the morning summon you to be wakeful and active 
in God's service ? Will you throw away the best 
part of your existence ? Will you poison the very 
fountain of thought ? Will you distort your facul- 
ties while they are so pliant? Will you passively 
hold up your young hands, and let Satan bind his 
infernal manacles around your wrists ? Will you 
bow your young heads for him to put his galling 
and disgraceful yoke about your neck ? Will you 
not rather spurn the tempter ? Will you not claim 
your freedom in Christ? Will you not bend in 
penitential prayer on Calvary, and wash your 
souls in the fountain* of a Saviour's blood? Will 



OF STRENGTH. 143 



you not take the hand of Jesus, and follow wher- 
ever he may lead you ? Will you not believe and 
be saved? Will you not this night be at peace 
with God? 



LECTURE VIII. 



THE TRUE STYLE OF 31AN. 



1 Kings ii. 2. — Be thou strong, and show thyself a man. 

Every age of the world demands its own pecu- 
liar style of men. Children and youth pass through 
very different kinds of training in different condi- 
tions of society. Sometimes it is indispensable that 
the discipline of the young should be almost exclus- 
ively physical ; they must be able to endure great 
bodily hardships, to brave the winds and the snows, 
to sleep on the open sod under the frosty star-light, 
or with the rain drenching their turfy pillow ; they 
must have a keen, sure eye, and a sinewy arm, to 
send the swift arrow to its mark ; have the skill and 
the strength to hurl the javelin into the leopard's 
skull ; they must be able to live long without food, 
to run quickly, to leap fearlessly, and to stand 
without quivering on the topmost crag of the high- 
est mountain. 

13 



146 THE TRUE STYLE OF MAN. 

In another stage of society men must be trained 
to systematic self-denial, to habitual sacrifice ; hold- 
ing all worldly comforts and possessions so loosely 
that they may be relinquished at a moment's warn- 
ing ; the fibre of the soul must be made so strong 
that the laceration of the flesh shall be unheeded ; 
and the individual keep himself in constant readiness 
for martyrdom. This may be demanded by the po- 
litical or the religious necessities of the times. 

And then, again, in other periods of history, the 
child is merely called to tread in the footsteps of his 
father ; the same processes of life and thought are 
repeated for successive generations; no special 
emergencies arise, no new experiences occur ; the 
clock strikes the hours, the earth rolls round, man 
goes forth to his labor until the evening, and every 
day is only a transcript of yesterday. 

I propose this evening to consider what is the 
peculiar style of training now demanded of our 
young men ; or, what kind of character needs to be 
cultivated. It is very evident that society has just 
entered upon another of its great transitionary 
stages. 

The generation which is coming on to the field of 
action will live in stirring times. During their day 
there will probably be wrought out a more general 
and vital change in the condition of society, than has 



THE TRUE STYLE OF MAX. 147 

been accomplished in anyone epoch since the light first 
went forth from Jerusalem. A work of preparation 
has been going on, for the last thirty or forty years, 
in theoretical science, in practical art, in commerce, 
in travel, in the circulation of intelligence, in political 
principles, in criticism, and in philosophy, the 
results of which remain to be elaborated. The rays 
may possibly converge to a focus during the life- 
time of those whom I address to-night. It is a great 
thing to live at such a period as this ; in some 
respects, it is a great privilege, — in other respects, it 
involves great peril. 

For, as might be expected at such a crisis, there 
is a strange conjunction of the mightiest elements of 
both good and evil. It needs a wise judgment to 
discriminate between the two ; for the counterfeit 
coin comes to us, silvered and stamped, to look like 
genuine money ; while the genuine is so bruised and 
bent in its passage from hand to hand, that it would 
hardly be taken for money at all. The glittering 
falsehood and the dulled truth lie together on every 
side. So that we have a singular mingling of in- 
rluences ; muddy rivulets empty themselves into the 
clear river of truth, and claim affinity with its 
waters ; phosphorescent meteors, born of corruption, 
glisten among the eternal stars ; mock suns gleam 
forth at midnight, lighting up the horizon with a 



148 THE TRUE STYLE OF MAN. 

wild, fictitious glare; lying wonders and spurious 
revelations throw discredit upon the real utterances 
of inspiration ; men call themselves after the name 
of Christ, who falsify his spirit and his doctrine, 
while others profess to do the work of Christ, who 
deny his name. These are strange times ; full of 
peril, full of hope. In one quarter of the firmament 
there is blue sky and glorious sunlight ; in another 
quarter there is a black drapery of cloud, marked 
by red and jagged fires, and hoarse with thunders. 

The first practical thought suggested by all this, 
directly applicable to young men who are soon to 
take the direction of society, is very obvious and 
very important. It is necessary that you should be 
able to combine strong individual force with a clear 
individual discernment. You should neither rush 
heedless and headlong into the strife ; neither should 
you tarn aside from the contest because you are 
bewildered and doubtful. You should learn to judge 
between good and evil ; and then be ready to strike 
manfully for the right. And, in order to do this, 
it is indispensable that you should put yourselves 
under a wholesome and thorough discipline in youth. 
You need, in the first place, to cultivate your intel- 
lectual faculties with the greatest care. 

Unless you do this, you cannot find out what is 
your proper place in society. Now, whatever may 



THE TRUE STYLE OF MAN. 149 

be your vocation, by careful discipline, you may 
qualify yourself to become a centre of extensive in- 
fluence. It is getting to be of comparatively little 
importance in what particular department of business 
a young man commences life ; if he will only culti- 
vate his faculties, he may rise to the head of his 
profession, and if that profession be unworthy of his 
powers, he will at last escape from it altogether. 
The secret of success is found in improving to the 
best advantage such opportunities as lie around us. 
It is not by changing their position that men acquire 
influence ; the good workman on the bench, who de- 
termines first that the article which he manufactures 
shall be as perfect as he can make it, and then, 
when his hammering or stitching for the day is over, 
goes to work with another set of tools to quicken 
and inform his mind, is more respectable, and, in the 
end, will become more influential, than the soporific 
proser in the pulpit, or the blundering advocate at the 
bar. 

The time has been when this general mental cul- 
ture would have been both impossible and useless. 
Posts of honor and authority were reserved for such 
as were born to them, gratia Dei ; but, by the grace 
of God, it is so no longer. Look into your city 
councils, your legislative assemblies, your scientific 
conventions ; read over the list of our popular poets, 
13* 



150 THE TRUE STYLE OF MAN. 

and journalists, and authors : consider who they are, 
and what they were, that now give tone to public 
opinion and control society. Are they generally such 
as were born to wealth, born to station, and bred in 
universities? There are some who have inherited 
distinction ; but the great majority are such as have 
made the most of limited advantages, have struggled 
against obstructions, and forced their way upward 
by their own interior strength. 

But it is not so much with a view to position and 
outward success that the young man should culti- 
vate his mental powers. There are better things 
than position and outward success. He is bound to 
find out what there is in him, — of what he is capa- 
ble ; bound to develop himself, not so much for the 
sake of securing honors and titles, and being elected 
to office, as from simple regard to what is due to his 
own nature. And when I speak of a man's finding 
out his own proper place, what he was made for, 
and to what he may reasonably aspire, this is what 
I mean, rather than outward rank or official station. 
The real influence which men exert does not depend 
as much as it once did upon external position. He 
who utters his own thoughts is the one who now 
wakens the echoes. The opinions of most men are, 
at best, only echoes ; what we need in this gener- 
ation is, that each voice should have its own sig- 



THE TRUE STYLE OF MAN. 151 

nification. One of the great evils of American society 
is a tyrannical public opinion, — manufactured some- 
times out of strange materials, the work of ambi- 
tious demagogues and one-ideaed reformers and 
angular bigots, and subscriber-seeking journalists, — 
which cannot be resisted without the risk of social 
martyrdom. Now, we want men who feel that they 
are strong enough and intelligent enough to sit in 
judgment upon public opinion ; and, if an idol be 
erected in the land, even though it be seventy cubits 
high, and gilded from top to toe, and labelled with 
the most sacred name, have the courage to declare it 
an idol, and the manliness to stand erect when the 
sackbut, and the dulcimer, and the psaltery call upon 
the multitude to bow down and worship. We want 
men who will tell the crowned Nebuchadnezzar that 
he is only fit to eat grass with the oxen. We want 
men who can walk quietly into the lion's den of 
popular wrath, rather than be disloyal to the God of 
truth. We want young men who can even face the 
fiery furnace seven times heated, confident that the 
Son of God walks also in the flames, to shield them 
from harm. We want men who can afford to be 
poor, rather than violate their conscience : to be ac- 
counted liars, rather than be untrue to their convic- 
tions ; to be defamed for the time, rather than lose 
their hold upon the generations that are to follow ; 



152 THE TRUE STYLE OF MAN. 

and such men must commence their training early, 
bear the yoke in their youth, undergo a thorough 
and earnest discipline, and learn to say with the 
divine Galilean boy to the wondering spectators, 
" Wist ye not that I must be about my Father's 
business ? " 

For another reason it is incumbent upon you to 
cultivate your intellectual powers most sedulously. 
I have already alluded to the peculiar mingling of 
good and evil elements which distinguishes the 
present age. You may sometimes be puzzled to 
know on which side of the great questions which 
agitate the community you ought to throw your 
influence. During your day those profound ques- 
tions, which have heretofore been confined to a few 
extraordinary minds, — such as philosophers once dis- 
cussed in academic groves, such as schoolmen pon- 
dered in the intervals of prayer, such as the fathers 
of modern science have elaborated. — will become 
popularized, and be brought more or less distinctly 
within the range of general observation. The great 
problems which lie at the foundation of all belief, 
which bear most vitally upon the whole construction 
of society, and which affect our most solemn in- 
terests as individuals, will be discussed, analyzed, 
and criticized on the platform, in the public journals, 
and at the corners of the streets. The indications of 



THE TRUE STYLE OF MAN. 153 

the last ten years, in this respect, are very signifi- 
cant. Subjects are beginning to be opened, by the 
lecturer and the reviewer, to which the world 
formerly would not have cared to listen. And on 
these points it will be necessary for you to form an 
opinion. You will hear those ancient verities, upon 
which your fathers leaned with such implicit faith, 
attacked with a power of aigument, an array of 
historic facts, and a bewitching charm of eloquence, 
that will stagger you unless you are prepared 
for the encounter. This is an ordeal which you 
cannot escape without escaping from society. We 
have no fear that the foundations of truth will be 
eventually disturbed and displaced by this upheav- 
ing of the elements ; but your personal faith may be 
sadly shaken if you do not fortify yourselves in sea- 
son. Error will approach you talking like an angel, 
and looking like a seraph ; while truth may present 
herself clothed in coarse camel's hair, and speaking 
roughly, like the voice of one crying in the wilder- 
ness. Truth may sound to you like fiction, and 
fiction wear the resemblance of truth. The most 
destructive doctrines may be sung in melodious 
verse, while the songs of Zion remain uncouth and 
repulsive. 

If, then, you wish to save yourself, more espe- 
cially if you wish to exert a good influence upon 



154 THE TRUE STYLE OF MAN. 

others, it is incumbent upon you to subject your 
mind in youth to a close and thorough discipline. 
You must not only cultivate those powers by which 
you may discriminate between a sophistical and a 
sound logic, but also cherish those higher intuitions 
which are superior to logic. You must be able to 
distinguish between that which is factitious and 
accidental, and that which is vital and essential. 
You must reach that position where you will not be 
in danger of giving up the truth because it is poorly 
defended, or of imbibing error because it is advo- 
cated with vigor. 

You need not say, " I am in no peril, for I shall 
just receive what has been handed down to me by 
my fathers ; I shall let others do my thinking and 
passively acquiesce in their judgment. I shall 
avoid all contact with that which my teachers tell 
me to be false, and keep out of the way of contagion." 
If you plant yourself in such ground as this, you 
will find that your feet stand in slippery places. It 
is much wiser and more manly to know what you 
believe, and why you believe it. God has given 
you your faculties for use. The ship that never 
sails will never founder ; but it might as well founder 
as to rot in the dock. 

I call upon you, therefore, to gird up the loins of 
your mind, and get ready for the eventful times in 



THE TRUE STYLE OF MAN. 155 

which you are to live. Trim your lamps, that you 
may see what is about you, and discover the path in 
which you ought to walk. 

" We live in deeds, not years ; in thoughts, not breaths ; 
In feelings, not in figures on a dial. 
We should count time by heart-throbs. He most lives 
Who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the best." 

Your preparation for life will, however, be very 
incomplete, if you bring under discipline only the 
intellectual part of your nature. Some of the wisest 
of mankind have been ranked among the meanest. 
Knowledge is power ; but it is not virtue. The 
more we know, the better, if the mind be propelled 
by lofty principles ; the less we know, the better, if 
selfishness and sin have dominion over us. 

It does not fall within the scope of this discourse 
to dwell at length upon the grosser temptations that 
will hereafter environ you. I assume that the great 
mass of such a congregation as the present are supe- 
rior to the enticements of the gambling-table, the 
drinking-saloon and the brothel. I assume that you 
will not sell your souls for the sake of an occasional 
drunken delirium of an hour. You do not mean to 
become moral suicides, and dig your own graves, 
and be buried there with the burial of an ass. You 
do not mean to stagger through a short life, with 



-56 THE TRUE STYLE OF MAN. 

blotched brows, and slavering speech, and palsied 
hands, laughed at by the thoughtless, pitied by the 
wise, and shunned by the good. You do not mean to 
live in such a manner, that, when you die, men will 
draw a full breath and say, " Thank God, he is 
gone! " You do not mean to sink so low that the 
mother who bare you will say, in her anguish, 
" Would that he had died in his cradle on that dreary 
night, when the dark angel seemed to be waiting at 
the chamber door ! " You do not mean to barter 
away your eternal birthright for a mess of poison- 
ous pottage. That class of youth, who have made 
such a miserable contract with the devil, must be 
sought for in other places, to-night, than in the house 
of prayer. 

But, if you would fulfil your vocation, and be pre- 
pared for the solemn responsibilities of the age in 
which you are to live, you must not be content 
simply to be freed from the thraldom of low and 
sensual vice. It is very important, in a time like the 
present, that you should cultivate the positive ele- 
ments of a high, generous and honorable character. 
There may be in society great popular decency of 
manner in combination with a very low and lax 
tone of principle. There are vices of which no 
return is ever made in our criminal reports, — which 
never subject a man to church discipline, which 



THE TRUE STYLE OF M A H . 157 

rarely interfere with one's election to office, which 
are no hindrance whatever in the way of making 
money, — that, after all, corrode the fibre of the sonl 
as fatally as those sins which are more open and 
more openly condemned. 

There is one such vice, which seems to be spread- 
ing like an insidious infection, and against which 
every young man, who desires to retain his self- 
respect, will do well to fortify himself. I do not 
know of any one word which fully describes this 
moral disease; in fact, different persons would 
characterize it in very different ways. Some would 
call it, mildly and apologetically, " putting the best 
foot forward," or, as a " shrewd mode of getting on," 
or, as a " harmless bit of deception," or, as a " neces- 
sary way of doing business in these times; " while 
others, speaking more plainly, would term it decep- 
tion, legal swindling, obtaining advantages under 
false pretences ; perhaps, if they happen to be per- 
sonal sufferers, they might call it constructive lying 
and stealing. It is the opinion of many, who have 
good opportunities of knowing, that this is the evil 
to which our thriving youth are most exposed. It 
is their opinion that there has been a general lower- 
ing of the standard of honor in the community ; in 
any case, that the spirit of chivalry is not at present 
very prominent. What is the popular idea of " a 
14 



158 THE TRUE STYLE OF MAN. 

good bargain" ? What is the effect of success upon 
a man's standing? Does it at all incline us to be 
oblivious of the mode in which that success has been 
obtained ? Who has infallible faith in an advertis- 
ing column ? What does the whole system of checks 
and counter-checks, securities and counter-securi- 
ties, indicate ? What seems to be accounted the 
" chief end of man " ? What is the current meaning 
of the word " speculation " ? I do not wish to be 
offensive,, and therefore I will not venture to answer 
these questions as they might be answered ; but I 
would simply suggest to the young men of this con- 
gregation, that it is in their power to reform and ele- 
vate the moral standard of trade. If any one says 
that he cannot afford to be more honest than his 
neighbors, I would reply, you cannot afford to be 
dishonest, even though it brings you millions. Dives 
may fare sumptuously, Dives may be made presi- 
dent of great societies, Dives may receive the lowest 
bows in the street ; but he cannot live on earth for- 
ever. Dives, however, must live somewhere forever; 
and when he passes from this world to the next, 
though he cannot take a single dollar with him, he 
must take his character with him ; he must pass 
through an ordeal there, in which his success will 
not be the point at issue ; and if the judgment turn 
against him, he will not be able to find bail. 



THE TRUE S T V L E OF MAN. 159 

The moral defect, to which we have alluded, does 
not prevail exclusively in the region of trade : there 
is a sad want of truthfulness, or of what may 
more properly be called reality, which gives to 
modern society an unsatisfactory and artificial as- 
pect. You cannot very readily tell, by seeing men 
in public, how they demean themselves in ordinary 
intercourse with their families. The fact that one's 
name is identified with a grand, philanthropic move- 
ment is by no means a sure indication that he is 
really benevolent, self-sacrificing, holding all his 
selfish passions in subjection. There is many a 
grave, respectable citizen, wlio, if he fell under the 
searching eye of Jesus, who knew what was in man, 
would hear something from his lips that would pre- 
vent his sleeping very soundly for one night. There 
is many a glossy coat which hides a multitude of 
secret sins. There is many a corrupt fountain that 
discharges its feculent waters under ground. There 
are many seraphic words uttered which originate in 
the bronchial tubes. The human heart is just as 
deceitful and desperately wicked as ever ; it needs 
as rigorous chastisement, as thorough a renewal, as 
severe a discipline, as it ever did, notwithstanding 
the style of outside morality is more decent and 
seemly. 

Let me, therefore, say to these young men. strive 



160 THE TRUE STYLE OF HAN. 

to be as good as you appear to be ; be more anxious 
to secure true self-respect than to be respected of 
your neighbors ; lay aside all hypocrisy ; remember 
that God understands you ; he knows just what you 
are ; all the motions of your soul are open to him ; 
and the time is not far off when your fellow-creat- 
ures will also understand you. 

There is another moral evil, intimately connected 
with what has already been presented, which is rife 
in our times, and of which I feel compelled to speak. 
I refer to the faithless spirit of the age. When men 
have allowed self-interest to make their consciences 
obtuse, there follows of necessity a decay of con- 
fidence in respect of all forms of truth. Anything 
like earnest and practical belief comes to be ridi- 
culed ; a tone of general badinage becomes fashion- 
able. Those who have no real convictions themselves 
doubt the sincerity of others; and they cease to 
believe it possible that a man can really live by faith 
in the Son of God. The critical, speculative habits 
of the age tend to confirm this faithlessness ; and a 
practical atheism gradually saps the foundations of 
rectitude and virtue. Investigation and inquiry 
degenerate into the wildest scepticism, until, at last, 
the very light that is in us becomes darkness. And 
then, how great is that darkness ! We first do 
wrong, then believe wrong, and so our case seems to 



THE TRUE STYLE OF MAN. 161 

be hopeless. This indicates rottenness at the very 
core ; the head is sick and the heart is faint. 

The remedy for these evils can be had only 
through a sound religious training. And by this I 
mean something more than being put through a 
certain formal religious routine. Notwithstanding 
all that is done in the way of technical religious 
teaching, it is a sad and singular fact that the great 
majority of our young men grow up to maturity 
without any open profession of faith, or the public 
recognition of any direct responsibility to God. Nor 
is this all. There is reason to believe that a large 
proportion of this class entertain in their hearts a 
positive aversion to religion ; and not a few have no 
clear and distinct theoretical belief. Is there not, at 
the present moment, an alarming amount of latent 
infidelity, as it respects the doctrines of the Gospel, 
and as to the authority of revelation itself? 

If this be so. it is time that we inquired carefully 
into the causes of this prevailing irreligion, and 
looked about to see what can be done to save our 
youth from peril. 

I have no time this evening to enter at length 
upon this subject. I can only say that every young 
man owes it to himself, to society, and to God, to 
give to religion a thorough and solemn examination. 
The relations which you sustain to the eternal 
14* 



162 THE TRUE STYLE OF MAN. 

world, and to the Being who created you, are not 
such as can be safely slighted. 

The special question to which, before closing, I 
wish to direct your thoughts, is this : What sort of 
Christians are likely to be most needed in your gen- 
eration? They ought, in the first place, to be such 
as are firmly established in the faith, knowing the 
grounds of their belief, and building upon a foun- 
dation that will bear the closest scrutiny. It is evi- 
dent to all careful observers that, during your day, 
the whole structure of revealed religion is destined 
to endure the most subtle and vigorous assault. 
The canon of Scripture, the nature of inspiration, the 
authority of miracles, the interpretation of prophecy, 
the chronology, the cosmogony, and the general 
scientific and historical accuracy of the Old Testa- 
ment ; these and other cognate topics will all be dis- 
sected with the profoundest skill. The doctrines of 
the Bible will be subjected to a similar ordeal. The 
precise relation of the patriarchal, the Mosaic and 
the Jewish dispensations to the Christian ; the true 
import of the Messianic element in the Old Testa- 
ment writings ; the nature of original sin, the phys- 
iological laws of hereditary depravity ; the extent and 
character of this constitutional sinfulness ; its bear- 
ing upon our personal responsibleness ; the mode in 
which it is to be exterminated ; the grounds of for- 



THE TRUE STYLE OF MAN. 163 

givcness and reconciliation with the Father ; the true 
import of the incarnation, and its relations to our 
renewal and redemption ; what is to be understood 
by the new birth, how it stands connected with the 
sacraments, with the Divine Spirit, and with our own 
volitions ; the philosophy of punishment, its intention, 
extent and duration ; the doctrines of the resurrection 
and immortality, the second coming of Christ, the 
judgment, and the kingdom of heaven ; — all these 
points will inevitably be discussed, analyzed, and 
most vigorously treated. Now, we have no fear that 
the truth will eventually suffer danger from the col- 
lision ; but, while the agitation is in process, you 
may personally surfer great damage unless your 
house is built upon a rock. You will need to hold 
your faith by a stronger grasp than that of mere tra- 
dition ; you must know yourself whereof you affirm. 
It is all-important that you should have that vital 
experience of the truth which is superior to the 
sophistries of logic ; that inward witness of the 
Spirit which is better than outward testimony. You 
will want a faith which is not to be moved by ques- 
tions of chronology, or geology, or any point of 
scientific criticism ; a faith which is not dependent 
upon your ability to harmonize the verbal and in- 
cidental discrepancies of sacred history; a faith 
which does not rest upon any absurd theory of in- 



164 THE TRUE STYLE OF MAN. 

spiration, obliging you to make this harmony. You 
will also require to hold such a clear and consistent 
view of revealed doctrine as will entirely satisfy 
your mind and meet your spiritual necessities ; not 
such a theory as professes to unlock all mysteries ; 
not such as brings revelation, or the supernatural, so 
near the natural plane, that, for aught we can see, it 
might as well be dispensed with ; not such as actu- 
ally obliterates the record which it professes to in- 
terpret ; not such a presumptuous notion of private 
judgment as makes a man prefer his own crude 
fancies to the catholic voice of Christendom; not 
that kind of faith which exhausts itself in decipher- 
ing the numbers of the beast and carefully counting 
his horns ; not such as involves palpable contradic- 
tions, shocks the natural sense of justice, and makes 
God an arbitrary tyrant ; — but you will want a faith 
that "finds you," shows you yourself, lets in light 
upon the secret chambers of iniquity, makes you 
loathe the sin which it discloses there, drives you to 
Christ, striving and pleading with him for the 
cleansing of your soul ; a faith which strengthens 
you for duty, arms you for trial, nerves you for en- 
durance ; a faith which gives you songs in the night, 
and always shows you the stars between the clouds. 
Another aspect of the coming times leads me to 
observe that you ought to cultivate that sort of 



THE TRUE STYLE OF MAN. 165 

religion which takes a real, vital hold upon the 
springs of thought and action ; a faith which is 
something more than a mere opinion, more substan- 
tial than a vague sentiment ; a faith which is a vital 
power, making you, in all respects, different beings 
from what you would be without it ; a faith which 
quickens your spiritual pulse, gives you a clearer 
vision, a keener insight, a stronger arm, a swifter 
foot ; a faith which makes you of real service to the 
world, — doing good first by being good, — a radiant 
centre of holiness, a light set upon a hill; doing 
good by following Christ's example, going about 
doing good, lifting up them that are bowed down, 
feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, comforting 
the stranger and the fatherless, rescuing the ignorant 
and them that are out of the way. We also greatly 
want a symmetrical religion, whole-sided as well as 
whole-souled Christians, who are never sordid, never 
mean, never calumnious, never self-righteous, never 
unnatural, never untrue ; Christians that it does one 
good to be near ; whose speech is seasoned with 
salt, and not with gall ; whose actions speak even 
more emphatically than their words ; who have a 
large, as well as a clear vision ; men, full of faith, 
full of hope, and more full of charity, who love with 
all their heart, — love God and man; Christians, 
who remind us all the while of Christ, who are not 



166 THE TRUE STYLE OF MAN. 

afraid to have dealings with the Samaritans, and 
would rather help to make sinners better than to 
break their heads with hard saying* and anathemas. 
I will sum up these remarks with the comprehen- 
sive exhortation of the dying David to his son Solo- 
mon : " Be thou strong, and show thyself a man ! M 
Manly Christian strength will be in great demand dur- 
ing your life-time. The world is not yet through with 
its rough work. The wave, which has been for some 
years advancing, may become refluent, and begin to 
roll back in this generation. The millennium is not 
coming this year, or the next. There are already 
certain very portentous signs of decadence. In our 
own land the ethical standard in politics has fallen 
fifty degrees within the last ten years. Abroad a 
most cruel and bloody war is waging to reestablish 
decaying and despotic dynasties. That great polit- 
ico-religious power, which has its centre at Rome 
and its circumference nowhere, is manifesting a 
strange vitality, working most dangerously where it 
burrows under ground and out of sight. The com- 
mercial world is in an unhealthy, feverish condi- 
tion, and is becoming a mammoth lottery, with a 
few splendid prizes, and innumerable blanks. And 
everywhere true, earnest piety is at a low ebb. 
Ephraim is joined to idols. Look well to yourselves 



THE TRUE STYLE OF MAN. 167 

in these perilous times, and husband your spiritual 
strength. 

Remember this, young men, that whatever may 
be the general aspect of the world, you must, in 
your individual and private experience, encounter 
emergencies, where you will find safety and comfort 
only by faith in the Son of God. Waves of adversity 
will beat upon your soul, which can be stilled only 
by the voice of Jesus. Deadly temptations will strike 
you to the earth, unless his strong arm hold you up. 
Darkness will encompass your path, when you will 
lose your way in the desert, if the day-star of Beth- 
lehem be not seen in the heavens. Death will come 
up into your mansions, and make your house deso- 
late, unless He also enter there, who is the resurrec- 
tion and the life. 

" Stand but your ground, your ghostly foes will fly ; 
Hell trembles at a heaven-directed eye ; 
Devote yourself to God, and you will find 
God fights the battles of a will resigned. 
Love Jesus ! Love will no base fear endure. 
Love Jesus ! And of conquest rest secure." 



LECTURE IX. 



ANALOGY OP MECHANICAL AND MORAL PROGRESS. 



[The following lecture is appended here, at the suggestion 
of others. It -will he evident that it -was delivered on a dif- 
ferent occasion from those -which precede.] 

The subject of the present lecture, is the analogy 
of mechanical and moral progress. Not their mutual 
relations, although these would naturally suggest 
many important thoughts; for there are singular 
reciprocal influences which inter-penetrate and link 
together all physical and moral science. But my 
present purpose is simply to exhibit and illustrate 
certain laws, which appear to be common to both 
mechanical and moral progress: including in the 
former whatever relates to the physical world, and 
in the latter that which comes within the department 
of the mind and soul. 

As it respects the fact of progress, I suppose no 
one will deny that great advance has been made 
15 



170 MECHANICAL AND 

in practical art. It is true, indeed, that the researches 
of antiquarians have shown that many operations 
in physical science, which were thought to be of 
comparatively modern origin, were known and prac- 
tised in a remote antiquity. We find, for instance, 
that the process of making and blowing glass was 
understood in Egypt three thousand five hundred 
years ago: bottles, beads, and other articles made 
of this material, have been found buried in the 
tombs; and from the breasts of mummies have 
been taken specimens of ornamental glass bead- 
work, similar to that with which the ladies of our 
day amuse themselves in their leisure hours. It 
has been asserted, that glass coffins were in use 
among the ancients, and Alexander is said to have 
been buried in one. There was also a degree of 
skill in the imitation of precious stones, and in the 
manufacture of the most exquisite specimens of 
glass ornaments, — somewhat like those which have 
been recently imported from Bohemia, and which have 
excited so much curiosity and admiration, only more 
elaborate and beautiful, — which shows that the 
Egyptians must have had a considerable amount of 
chemical knowledge. They evidently understood 
the use of metallic oxydes for the production of 
colors; and the brilliancy and permanence of the 
paintings which have been discovered, indicate that 



MORAL PROGRESS. \~ [ 

they possessed some secrets in this department of 
art, now lost to the world. However rude the 
maehinery which they used, cloth fabrics were pro- 
duced, unsurpassed by the most finished productions 
of our looms: the significant name, "cloth of air" 
was given to some of their finer webs, which we 
may suppose to have floated like gossamer in the 
atmosphere. The shop of an Egyptian carpenter 
must have looked -not unlike what we see around 
us: nearly all the tools now in use might be found 
there, and the same operations in process — of gluing, 
and dove-tailing, and veneering. The toilet of an 
Egyptian woman was very similar in its conveni- 
ences and luxuries to that before which our ladies 
adorn themselves: the daughter of Pharaoh had her 
stock of pins, and needles, and pocket-mirrors, and 
perfumes. And the Egyptian gentleman made his 
morning call in a full, curled wig, and, — according 
to the custom of the country, — left his walking-stick 
in the hands of a servant, who waited for this pur- 
pose at the hall-door, and received a trifling fee for 
the service. Even the germ of our modern rail- 
roads has been detected in the land of the pyramids: 
the huge blocks of stone, found in the ruins of Thebes, 
weighing between eight and nine hundred tons, and 
more than forty feet in length, having been trans- 
ported one hundred and forty miles over a sort of 



172 MECHANICAL AND 

plank rail, which was saturated with oil or grease, 
to facilitate the movement of the sledge upon which 
the stone was placed. The mode of quarrying stone, 
by the insertion at little intervals of small metallic 
or wooden wedges, was also practised in ~Egypt: a 
simple contrivance for separating the rock, — by 
striking the wedge, if metallic, or by expanding it 
with moisture, if made of wood, — which was supposed 
to have been a happy thought of more modern times. 
Making all due allowance, however, for these and 
similar facts, it is undoubtedly true that, in general, 
there has been made, especially of late, a most extra- 
ordinary progress in every important branch of sci- 
ence. Had the discoveries of the last hundred years 
been foretold in 1750, without any scientific state- 
ment of the process through which these results 
would be obtained, the prediction would have taken 
rank with the Arabian tales of Sheherazade, blessed 
even above women with the gift of speech. Had it 
then been declared that, in the year of grace, 1850, 
on certain days of the week, let the wind blow from 
whatever quarter it might, or not blow at all, at a 
certain hour of the day, the huge ship, without an 
inch of canvas spread, would quietly glide from her 
moorings, and through storm and through calm 
steadily hold on her swift way over the Atlantic, 
dropping into her dock at Liverpool almost with as 



MORAL PROGRESS. 112 

much precision of time as the old English stage- 
coach thundered through Eastcheap: that, on land, 
huge bales of merchandise would be whirled along, 
over rivers, and valleys, and the tops of houses, and 
under mountains, and rocks, and cellars, at the rate 
of twenty, or thirty miles in an hour; while perhaps 
the buyer and owner of these goods preceded them 
on the same route with double velocity; that, by 
just stepping into a sort of enchanted room, here in 
Hartford, you might converse with a friend in New 
Orleans, almost as readily as though you stood to- 
gether face to face; that, passing into another cham- 
ber of enchantment, you might come out in five 
minutes with a perfect fac-simile of your own face 
in your pocket, pictured On a metallic plate, without 
the use of pencil, paint, or graver; that your streets 
and houses would be brilliantly lighted, without 
lamp or candle, the gaseous material passing in 
metallic tubes under the pavement and through the 
casement; that the most elaborate, difficult, and 
frightful operations of surgery would be performed 
by the aid of ether, without causing a nerve to 
tingle, — the patient, as by a strange misnomer we 
used to call him, all the while lapped in Elysium; 
that a jacket might be woven of cotton fibre, that 
would explode violently if a spark of fire lighted 
upon it — the sportsman being able to use his cotton- 
15* 



174 MECHANICAL AND 

wadding instead of gunpowder; that this same 
explosive gun-cotton, dissolved in the same fluid 
which causes the knife of the surgeon to cut without 
pain, would also furnish the most enduring and 
impervious covering for the wound ; that this same 
•ether would also be shut up in the iron cylinder, as 
is now done in Paris, and there made to turn pon- 
derous wheels, and labor incessantly without losing 
either strength or bulk; that a still more subtle 
fluid, — electricity, which, so far as experiment has 
yet gone, seems to be wanting in some of the ac- 
credited qualities of matter, and whose presence is 
manifested only when its circuit is broken, — would 
also be fastened to the brazen pulley, and made to 
work like a slave for man ; it would all have sounded 
in the ears of the men of a former generation like 
the voice of one that dreamed. 

The most devoted admirer of antique gems and 
graceful drinking-vessels, cannot but admit that the 
world has made great progress in all those mechanic 
arts which bear upon the general welfare and com- 
fort of mankind. 

Neither is it easy to deny that there has been 
some advance in the moral kingdom. No new prin- 
ciples of ethics have been discovered since the first 
revelation of Christianity; the Gospel, as it was 
originally delivered to man, furnished all the mate- 



M ORAL PROGE E S S . 



175 



rial that he needed for the highest elevation of his 
character : but, in respect of the broad development 
of those principles, and their application to the prac- 
tical necessities of our race, there certainly has been 
somewhat learned, as there probably remains much 
yet to be learned. We may find an illustration of 
what may be considered as fixed and what progressive 
in ethics from aesthetic art. It is a singular circum- 
stance that, in our times, no new school of architecture 
has come into existence; and no improvement been 
suggested in the general proportions and principles of 
art, by which the structures of Athens were erected. 
The relative height and diameter of the Tuscan or 
Corinthian columns, the relation of the shaft to the 
capital, the pitch of the roof, must be left undis- 
turbed, at the risk of offending every cultivated eye. 
But these ancient forms now appear in new combin- 
ations, and are applied to new purposes. Once, the 
architect was called to build a stately temple to the 
gods, while the people burrowed where they could 
most readily find a shelter, and the common transac- 
tions of life were carried on under the canopy of 
the open heavens. Now, he must bring his skill to 
bear in the construction of churches, where the 
moral nature of the people is enlightened; and 
schools, where their minds are informed; and hos- 
pitals, where they are cared for when sick; and 



176 



MECHANICAL AND 



alms-houses, where they are provided for when poor; 
and rail-road stations, where they may rest when 
journeying; and market-places, from which few 
need to go empty away; and lyceums, from which 
it is possible that all may go empty away, but which, 
upon the whole, are of no mean service. And even 
our private dwellings are gradually getting fashioned 
into a sort of grace and beauty; and already many 
a laborer's house arfords not a few comforts that 
would once have been looked for in vain in king's 
palaces. As in art, so in morals, we look for no 
improvement in general principles, but only in the 
broader and freer application of those principles. 
The world has long known that knowledge is better 
than ignorance ; but it has been slow to provide for 
universal education, and has now just begun to do 
it. The general laws of humanity have been recog- 
nised for ages ; but the world is only beginning to 
see that there is no class who should not have the 
benefit of those laws; and as yet, scarcely has the 
first step been taken in the solution of the great 
problem, how can human misery be most effectually 
relieved and prevented ? The desirableness of peace 
and the nobleness of forbearance have been formally 
allowed ever since the gospel of peace was pro- 
claimed; and still, how generally have the nations 
of the earth shrunk from the application of this 



MORAL PROGRESS. 177 

theory! The grace of toleration would seem to 
have been so fundamental as to enter necessarily 
into the very definition of Christianity, for it pro- 
claimed Charity to be the very topmost virtue; and 
yet the practical exercise of this grace, without 
bound or restriction, is a modern innovation, to 
which many yet appear to find it hard to reconcile 
themselves. The doctrine of human progress itself, 
without the admission of which, it would hardly 
seem as though there were any other truth worth 
contending for, is still treated with contempt by 
some who love fossil remains better than living 
things, and all attempts after its realization are met 
with a sneer. And yet progress is the law of our 
organic being, just as truly as it is of our individual 
existence: not, indeed, that both follow the same 
method, and are alike uniform and steady. The 
advance of the human race is not like the unfolding 
of a tree from the seed, where the complete oak all 
exists potentially in the acorn, and from that germ 
just develops itself, without interruption. It is 
rather a struggle against perpetual obstructions, a 
resistance of the current, a sailing against the wind; 
where the final result is determined, not by accident 
or necessity, but by the degree of effort put forth 
by the will of man, aided by supernatural grace 
conferred by God. 



178 MECHANICAL AND 

There are certain peculiar laws, by which the pro- 
gress of the race is regulated; and as they are in 
a measure common to both physical and moral 
improvement, the one may serve to illustrate the 
other: 

I. The first of these laws which we propose to 
notice is this, every great discovery and invention 
comes in its own proper time; it could not, upon 
the whole, have been advantageously made at any 
earlier period, and it could not well have been any 
longer delayed. 

The remark is often made, how much better off 
the world would have been, if the mariner's com- 
pass, and the steam-engine, and the art of printing, 
had been known in the infancy of its existence ; and, 
how strange it is that the race should have had to 
wait so long for these important discoveries ! Now, 
in regard to this matter, we may remark that there 
were certain things necessary to be done, before 
society could be prepared for these improvements 
in science, which required the absence of those 
very facilities upon which we are so dependant. 
The first thing to be accomplished was to people the 
globe, to scatter the race over its wide surface, to 
lodge a family here and a family there, till all the 
islands of the sea should receive their proper pro- 
portion of inhabitants. Scripture informs us that 






MORAL PROGRESS. ]~9 

the brotherhood of man is complete in a common 
parentage; and hence, from one family in Southern 
Asia, the whole world has been gradually peopled. 
How has this universal colonization been effected? 
It must have been mainly the result of what men 
commonly call accident, or of what seemed at the 
time to be calamity. Creeping warily along the 
familiar shore in their rude boats; or perhaps ven- 
turing a few miles beyond the sight of land, trusting 
to the stars for their guidance homeward; suddenly 
the heavens are overcast with clouds, the freshening 
breeze from the shore drives the bewildered marin- 
ers out into the broad, and, for aught they can tell, 
illimitable ocean, bearing them on in the gloom, they 
know not whither. At last, the moon and the stars 
once more silver the evening sky, but they appear 
too late to be of service to the boatmen, for whether 
their home lies on the right or on the left, they are 
profoundly ignorant. Clinging, however, instinct- 
ively to life, they put their vessel before the wind, 
when, to their joy, in the dim distance, lofty moun- 
tains appear, with their summits in the clouds. Gra- 
dually, green fields and forests are seen, whose 
silence was never yet broken by the voice of man ; 
rivers and harbors open before them, where no bark 
was ever yet moored. There they land, and thence- 
forth that is to be their home. There they must 



180 



MECHANICAL AND 



abide, and there become the founders of a tribe 
or nation. 

Now, if the mariner's compass had been in use in 
those early days of the world's first colonization, 
would it have facilitated the general process? It 
seems to us that it would rather have served to 
hinder it. Let it be noted, that there could then 
have been no overplus of population in the inhabited 
regions of the earth to drive the people forth in 
search of more room ; and it is not likely that, in 
such a state of society, there would be that thirst 
for discovery which has since prompted exploring 
expeditions to unknown quarters. Above all, let it 
be observed, that the same facilities which would 
have enabled them to discover new countries, would 
also furnish them with the means of finding their 
way home again, of which they would gladly avail 
themselves. So that it is most probable that the 
instrument upon which we rely to navigate the seas, 
would have been an actual hindrance in the way of 
the world's colonization. There are some facts 
which confirm this theory. It is well known that 
the properties of the magnet were understood by 
the Chinese, long before its introduction into Europe. 
There is no doubt that it has been in use amongst 
that people for at least fifteeen hundred years ; and 
yet China has all the while been pre-eminent among 



MORAL PROGRESS. jgj 

the nations for its complete and absolute isola- 
tion, and has done far less than any other, at all 
corresponding in importance, for the colonization 
of the world. 

The earth having become generally inhabited, in 
the natural order of events, there were great objects 
to be accomplished, which required that navigation 
should become a fixed science: men must be able to 
travel intelligently all over the ocean; stated inter- 
course must be established between the different 
portions of the human family which had so long 
been sundered; regions, densely peopled, must be 
relieved of their surplus population ; civilization must 
carry its treasures to barbaric lands; and that pro- 
cess of fusion be commenced, which is to result at 
last in the reappearance of the organic unity of the 
human race in oneness of language, government, 
and religion. When this period arrived, the Cru- 
sader brought intelligence to his European home, 
how the Arabian found his way over the trackless 
desert, by means of a needle, impregnated with load- 
stone, floating on a bit of cornstalk in a basin of 
water: and this little tremulous piece of iron, was 
destined thenceforth to change the aspect of the world. 

Recurring again to the more primitive condition 
of things, we observe that there was another end to 
De accomplished, which demanded the absence of 
16 



JgO MECHANICAL AND 

manj r of those mechanical inventions, which are now 
so indispensable to human progress. The personal 
skill of handicraft must, in the nature of things, take 
precedence of machinery. The first thing to be done is 
to excite the spirit of individual industry,, thrift and 
thoughtf illness. Now, if it had been possible that 
our modern labor-saving inventions could have been 
brought into use in that infantile state of society, and 
our modern division of labor have been practically 
recognised; if our steam-engines, and power-looms, 
and planing-machines, could then have been set in 
motion, and their uses comprehended; how would 
the development of man's individual powers have 
been affected? It is not by standing by to tend a 
steam-boiler ; or mend a broken thread, that the race 
find out the use of their faculties; but by trying at 
first, each in his own rude way, to build him some 
sort of a house to live in, and to make some sort of 
a coat to wear, and to raise something out of the 
earth to be eaten. And then the primary step in 
every improvement must begin in the family: the 
first wheel must be made to spin there, the first loom 
must be erected there, and be worked by hand, not 
by water or steam. The humming of the spindle 
and the clatter of the shuttle in the cottage cease, 
when they have done their part in educating the hand 
and the head: then the woven garment is furnished 



MORAL PROGRESS. 153 

from some other quarter, and man is directed to higher 
means of culture. 

In this connection, we would further remark that 
inventions are not made until the time comes when 
their use is likely to be appreciated. At first thought, 
we may well wonder that the world should have 
existed for more than five thousand years, before the 
art of printing was discovered. At once so simple 
and so useful, why did it not follow immediately the 
invention of written characters? Two replies may 
be given: if it had had an earlier birth, it might very 
probably have met with a premature death. Even 
as it was, when Guttenberg, in the fifteenth century, 
printed and published the famous Mazarine Bible, it 
was supposed that none but the devil could have done 
it, and the German did well to escape being sent to 
keep him company in his own place. 

Again, it was necessary that knowledge should be 
accumulated, before it could be disseminated. The 
world must have a history, before there could be 
records to publish ; and thoughts must be elaborated, 
before they can be impressed upon the printed page. 
There must also be an awakening of general intelli- 
gence, before there can be a demand for books ; and 
then the circulation of knowledge will excite further 
desire for knowledge. The tedious process of copy- 
ing with the pen answered the purpose of the world, 



Jg/j. MECHANICAL AND 

while there were but few that could read, and when 
even kings signed state-papers with the sign of the 
cross, because they could not write their names. But 
when the world was ripe for it, then came the great 
invention that was to quicken and perpetuate all other 
inventions. 

Passing now into the moral kingdom, we find that 
there the same general law obtains, which the history 
of these inventions in mechanic art has served to 
illustrate. Any institution, principle or practice, if 
we would fairly apprehend it, must be judged of in 
reference to the time in which it appears. Many 
things, in the records of the past, which now look 
to us like abuses, were really in their day the tokens 
of improvement in public sentiment. Many things, 
now stamped as vices, were in their time only a spe- 
cies of purblind virtues; in any case, they were so 
far in advance of the vices which they displaced, 
that they were virtuous by comparison ; and many 
of the old errors and falsities, which the world has 
outgrown, served their purpose in the education of 
the race. They had a rough sort of work to do, 
which, under all the circumstances of the case, could 
be accomplished by no milder agency. 

But when, in the providence of God, the time 
arrives for any specific reformative movement, that 
movement becomes inevitable. This or that direct 



MORAL PROGRESS. 1«5 

effort to accomplish it may fail: a dull conservatism 
may back its dead weight against the onward mass, 
or an insane radicalism may clog the path instead of 
clearing it; but the hour has come, and neither friend 
nor foe can stay the issue. It is only necessary to 
suppose, in the way of preliminary, that the thought 
of the world has taken a particular direction; and 
inasmuch as all progress is the product of thought, 
you have in that all the premise that is essential. 
Interest, and custom, and pride, and privilege, may 
rear their ramparts around the old abuse ; the furi- 
ous may threaten, the more sober may argue, the 
timid may go down on their knees to entreat for it, 
but the day of its doom has come, and the sentence 
has gone forth, that it shall be no more ! And upon 
the ruins of every abuse, some real use must rise: 
in place of every exterminated error, some truth 
must come into being. For the use and the truth 
always existed, and now they are only brought to 
light. They always were, but they were not always 
seen. The seed was in the soil, but it could not 
germinate. 

Having once reached the light, and fairly come 
within the range of vision, the truth has a vitality 
of its own which ensures its perpetuity. It can 
never be unlearned. The candle may be put under 
a bushel, but after a while it will burn the frail wicker- 
16* 



186 MECHANICAL AND 

work, and shine forth again. No great vital prin- 
ciple was ever brought within the intelligent apprehen- 
sion of the race, and after that effectually destroyed. 
Eighteen centuries ago, He who spake as never man 
spake, uttered certain truths, which only needed to 
be uttered, to be perceived to be truths, requiring no 
logic to sustain or argument to prove them; and 
their force is revolutionizing the world. 

In view of the general law now before us, we also 
see how useless are all attempts to force the progress of 
reform beyond its own natural germination. There 
is a series of successional steps in the onward march 
of things, not one of which can possibly be omitted. 
The moral growth of the race is a regular stratifica- 
tion; and each of the strata must be allowed to harden 
and become consolidated, in order that it may sustain 
the next formation. Every reform is based upon 
some other reform less complete; and the antecedent 
is essential to the consequent. Not, indeed, as we 
have before intimated, that the law of life is here 
the same unvarying principle by which the oak, year 
after year, puts on one concentric circle after another, 
so that, when it falls, you may read its age infallibly 
in the rings which the bark encloses. In the moral 
kingdom, there are seasons when the sap refuses to 
flow, and the trunk, instead of augmenting in bulk, 
shrivels and looks as though it were going to decay. 



MORAL PROGRESS. Jg7 

In certain periods of the world, the hand upon the 
dial-plate seems to go backward, and it appears as if 
all that had been gained by the toil of centuries were 
about to be lost. Christianity flashes upon the world 
a light so clear and lustrous, that all the ancient con- 
stellations, which men had worshipped as gods, van- 
ish like stars before the rising sun; and in a single 
generation, a regenerative work is wrought, which 
stands forth as a grand miracle of history: and then 
the gloom of evening gathers again, and the spirits 
of darkness come forth once more from their hiding- 
places, and for many a weary year the earth groans 
with cruelty and violence. Still, as there is a law of 
progress, these phenomena, as well as all others, must 
be capable of being reduced within its terms. The 
very retrocessions of the human race must teach their 
proper lesson, and hold a necessary place in the pro- 
gress of reform. We may not yet be able to perceive 
their full meaning, because we are not yet sufficiently 
removed from their influence. One thing, however, 
we know, that during these wintry seasons, although 
the plant may bear no fruit, and lose all its greenness, 
the root in the ground still lives, and when the warm 
breath of the south blows again, the leaf and the 
blossom shall reappear, and it shall yield a richer 
harvest than before. 



Igg MECHANICAL AND 

II. The second general law common to both me* 
chanical and moral progress, which we propose to 
illustrate, is this: inventions and improvements come 
in groups; whenever the time arrives for the pro- 
duction of any specific reform, whatever else is neces- 
sary to its support and efficiency also starts into being. 
Bat for the operation of this law, many a mechanical 
invention, which becomes invaluable in connection 
with other inventions, would be comparatively useless. 
I select, as the first illustration which suggests itself, 
the manufacture of cotton. The time had come, when 
the increasing demand for cotton goods rendered it 
desirable that some more economical and expeditious 
mode of producing cloth should be invented. Accord- 
ingly it enters the mind of a barber's boy in the west 
of England, to contrive some way for manufacturing 
cotton thread more rapidly ; and in 1769, Arkwright 
took out a patent for a spinning machine, which was 
put in operation in Nottingham, and, with some sub- 
sequent improvements, proved entirely successful. 
Just seven years before this, as if to prepare the way 
for this improvement, the grandfather of the late Sir 
Eobert Peel had started a new carding machine, by 
which the cotton fibre was prepared for being spun 
into thread with much greater facility than was done 
in the old way by the wool-combers. But now it 
seemed likely that the thread would be furnished 



MORAL PROGRESS. Jg9 

faster than it could be woven ; when Cartwright 

addressed himself to the invention of another 
machine to meet this exigency; and what is called 
the power-loom was the result. Then followed the 
dressing-machine of Mr. RadclifFc: then the applica- 
tion of steam as a motive power: and then, that there 
might be no lack of the raw material, Whitney in- 
vented the cotton-gin, by which the cotton-fibre is 
expeditiously separated from the seeds, and furnished 
at a reduced price. Any one of these inventions 
would have been of little practical use, without the 
aid of all the rest, and all came into being almost 
simultaneously. 

Again, the invention of Printing would have been 
of little service, unless some substitute could be 
discovered for the costly parchment of which books 
had previously been made: and accordingly in the 
year 1319, in the same century in which Guttenberg 
cast his metal types, we hear of a discovery by which 
cotton rags could be converted into paper. And 
when the demand for books became so great, that 
the old screw-press and the old way of making paper 
by hand, proved insufficient; we have the steam 
power-press invented, throwing off its thousand im- 
pressions in an hour; and a new application of 
machinery to the manufacture of paper, by which it 
is produced with extraordinary facility. 



193 MECHANICAL AND 

The same law, which these familiar facts help to 
illustrate, obtains in every department of art and 
science. No discovery stands alone. It cannot, in 
the nature of things; and it would be of no service, 
if it could. There is, in the physical world, such an 
inter-communication of principles, such a mutual 
dependance, such a law of sequence, that nothing can 
exist, or be perceived, in an isolated and separate 
condition. Every particular in every science has a 
connection with every other particular in the same 
science: and then all sciences have reciprocal rela- 
tions and affinities. A man must know something 
about almost every thing, to understand any one 
thing thoroughly. The man of one idea, nobody 
will trust ; because it is felt that he cannot fairly com- 
prehend his one idea, unless he has compared it with 
other ideas. The highest forms of philosophy teach 
us, that all human knowledge is only the knowledge 
of relations. All observation is the gathering of 
innumerable rays into one focus : a solitary ray would 
convey no image to the mind. 

And it is a noticeable fact, that, just in proportion 
as discovery reveals an increasing complexity of pro- 
cesses in nature, is the number of simple substances 
reduced: and every new truth seems to be another 
step towards the evolution of some single, dynam- 



MORAL PROGRESS. X9 1 

ical principle, under which all phenomena may be 

comprehended. 

The second general law, at which we have briefly 
glanced, as it is operative in the physical world, holds 
equally true in respect of moral progress. No reform 
in individual character, or in the community at large, 
can stand alone. If it were possible to bring about 
a radical change in public sentiment, as to any one 
of the great evils that afflict society, so as to induce 
a complete revolution in that solitary respect; it is 
questionable whether, upon the whole, we should be 
an} 7 better off than we were before. Those reformers 
who would push a single, abstract principle to its 
ultimate practical conclusion, without any reference 
to other facts and principles, and without regard to 
the general analogy of things, avouIc! be very much 
astonished at the actual result, if they should happen 
to succeed in their endeavors. An old and unsafe 
building in the midst of a city had better be removed; 
but it is not well to burn it down, and it may be dan- 
gerous to take it down without considerable care. 
Frail and ricketty as it is, it may still give some sort 
of support to adjacent structures; for the strong 
sometimes lean upon the weak. 

There is a point where true conservatism and true 
progress may unite, and it is here; let no abuse be 
cherished, because it is old ; but, because it is old, let 



192 MECHANICAL AND 

it be handled with care. Let its connection with the 
general order of things, with other abuses and other 
uses, be considered. Let it be remembered, that even 
this institution, which has now grown to be so evil, 
had its work to do in the former progress of the race. 
If that work be all done, over with it, to make way 
for something better. And let it also be remem- 
bered, that what we propose to substitute for it, if 
man has any thing to do with its construction, will also 
grow old bye and bye, and come to be considered as 
a comparative nuisance, and then its mouldy and 
worm-eaten timbers will give way. The silliest notion 
which a reformer ever gets into his head is, that he 
can individually reach the ultimate of improvement: 
for then, in the moment that his particular scheme is 
accomplished, he becomes as blind a bigot as any 
whom he has displaced. 

But I imagine that some indignant philanthropist 
here mutters to himself, "Away with all this caution 
and refinement! If any thing is wrong, down with 
it; and when that is disposed of, we will destroy 
something else." Suppose, however, that the wrong 
thing will not come down, unless you can bring cer- 
tain other wrong things down with it; and suppose, 
moreover, that it will not come down in the way you 
propose and just at present, without bringing with it 
some things, which it were better should stand; if 



MORAL PROGRESS. I93 

the world has waited six thousand years for the 
destruction of that evil, and still all the while been 
working for its overthrow, can you not be content to 
hold the axe in suspense a little longer, before you 
strike the fatal blow ; which indeed, if it be struck 
too soon, may not prove fatal? For it is only vanity 
in you to imagine that the result depends upon your 
solitary arm; you have your vocation, your proper 
part in the work to perform; but the evil will end, 
whether you have any thing to do with it or not. 

"What we call the life of the age throws out its 
branches and nourishes its fruit, just as inevitably as 
the living oak: and such a growth as this is neither 
to be advanced by pulleys, or tied down with ropes. 
Great organic reforms move on with a sort of rhythm, 
with a harmony of their own, interlaced one with an- 
other, and marching with an irresistible step. It i3 
just as certain that the institution of slavery, in (rod's 
own time, will pass away, as it is that the world will 
continue to revolve: because the perception of its 
general injustice and inexpediency has come home 
to the living conscience of man. It is- equally 
certain that inter-national wars will cease: because 
the general current of things, increasing intercourse 
among the nations of the earth, the fusion of their 
separate interests, unwillingness to pay the cost of 
war, with a growing sense of its wickedness, combine 
17 



194 



MECHANICAL AND 



to induce this result. It is equally certain that there 
must be a fairer adjustment of capital and wages, a 
more equitable distribution of wealth : because of the 
more general distribution of intelligence, which must 
induce a more general distribution of every thing 
else. It is equally certain that the principles of rep- 
resentative government are destined in the end to 
prevail universally: for men are finding out that 
they are men, and when this great discovery is made, 
republicanism follows of necessity. All these great 
reforms move on together; and our Societies, and 
Congresses, and Phalanxes, and Caucuses are as much 
phenomena as agencies. They are a part of the 
analogy of things: not so important as their own 
self-consciousness would indicate, and still not unim- 
portant. They enter into the method of nature, or 
Providence: but they do not control Providence. 
They are media, through which the active force of 
humanity in part develops itself. They serve to cul- 
tivate and bring out the interior thought, upon which, 
under God, and in combination with circumstances 
under His supreme control, the final result depends. 
Their specific efforts may fail, or seem to fail: but 
they have served a good, gymnastic purpose, which 
was, perhaps, the great end for which they came 
into being. 



MORAL PROGRESS. |9~ 

IIL There is one, farther, general law in the pro- 
gress of mechanical science and of moral improvement, 
which we design to notice. There is a gradual re- 
finement in the nature of the material and the force 
required for the production of a given result; a pas- 
sage from grosser forms of influence to those which 
are at once more subtle, ethereal and effective. I 
select at random a few familiar illustrations of this 
principle. The supply of artificial light by which 
the hours of labor and of recreation are protracted 
beyond the setting sun, may be considered as one of 
man's primary wants. The pitchy flame of the pine 
knot or faggot was the first rude expedient, by which. 
this necessity was supplied. Then followed a sort 
of artificial torch, almost as rude : and then the lamp, 
at first in simple and afterwards in more elaborate 
forms : till at last, in 1739, by one of those accidents 
which often occur during scientific experiments di- 
rected to some other end, it was discovered that the 
gas, which was always the real supporter of flame, 
might be separated from other substances, enclosed 
by itself, and used for practical purposes. Fifty 3*ears 
afterward, it was actually thus applied, and is now 
rapidly superseding all grosser materials. Before 
another generation passes away, it is probable that 
even this refinement upon the smoky torch, will give 



196 MECHANICAL AND 

way to a more powerful electric agent, before which 
all darkness shall flee away. 

When the ancient Egyptians had occasion to trans- 
port across the desert the huge masses of stone, in 
which they took such architectural delight, their only 
resource was to harness to the wooden frame upon 
which the rock was to be borne, some hundreds or 
thousands of human beings, who tugged at the ropes 
for many a weary month, under a sweltering sun ; 
and when the long journey was accomplished, the 
furrowed track was lined with the bones of the dead. 
"We now lay down a double row of iron bars, harness 
fire and water to the ponderous train, and in a single 
day, accomplish more than a whole township of 
Egyptians could do in a month. 

When the rice farmer on the Nile, in the good old 
days of the Pharaoh's, wished to irrigate his fields 
during the dry season ; he enclosed himself in a sort 
of tread-mill, and by dint of severe exertion pumped 
up the waters of the river to refresh his land. Now 
we make the descending stream work for us : we bury 
a little instrument, called the Hydraulic Earn, in the 
earth, direct the water to flow through it, which by 
its own vital power, it then raises to the required 
height; and if you lay your ear to the ground, by 
night and by day, you may hear its incessant pulsa- 



MORAL PROGRESS, 



197 



tion, like the beating of a human heart, proving that 
it slumbers not, neither is weary. 

Apart from the progressive improvement that has 
been made in mechanical contrivances, it is particu- 
larly interesting to note the gradual refinement which 
may be traced in the nature of the power by means 
of which physical results are obtained. 

In the dawn of human existence, every thing must 
have been done by the mere exertion of bodily 
strength, the muscles of the arm must have been taxed 
to the utmost, and literally indeed in those days did 
man eat bread in the sweat of his face. The first 
step which indicated progress, was the substitution 
of brute for human force, when the ox was harnessed. 
to the plough instead of man. The powers of the air 
were next invoked, the sail was spread to the breeze, 
and the boat moved and the mill ground in obedience 
to the wind, which man had summoned to his aid. 
Then he laid his hand upon the flowing stream, 
arrested its course, brought this new form of power 
under more complete control, and made it work for 
him. After a while, he found that a more potent 
element lay within his reach; the water was bound 
in iron, fire brought to act upon it, and its subtle 
vapor, by simple expansion and contraction, was 
forced to labor, while the wind was quiet and the 
17* 



198 MECHANICAL AND 

stream stagnant. It has been calculated, by a distin- 
guished scientific gentleman, that a man of average 
size, who should labour for twenty years, eight hours 
per day, would have exerted a force equal to that 
produced by burning in a steam-engine three tons 
of coal. He has also ascertained that three ship-loads 
of coal would furnish power enough to have built the 
largest of the Egyptian pyramids. Now, it would 
seem as though this monarch of the flood and the 
field, man's servant, were destined in its turn to retire 
before an element, still more subtle, ethereal and 
potent: — That mysterious electric substance, which 
seems to bridge the gulf that separates the material 
and the spiritual ; which holds so strange a connection 
with the processes of both vegetable and animal life, 
quickening the growth of wheat and curing the mal- 
adies of the body; which holds incomprehensible 
affinities with the magnetic poles; which furnishes 
a light intense as that of the sun; which, though 
intangible, imponderable and invisible, can rive the 
granite rock and lay cities in the dust; which can 
kill, and almost make alive ; which can give the same 
vibration to a pendulum in Cincinnati and in Wash- 
ington; which can be made to utter at the same 
instant the same words in every city of the Union; 
this is the great enchanter, wkich, reduced by science 
to fulfil the will of man, is destined to realize the 



MORAL PROGRESS. 199 

wildest dreams of magic. It is only necessary to 
detect its favorite hiding-place, to concentrate its 
diffused power, and then we have before us this most 
extraordinary phenomenon: the subtlest and most 
immaterial of all material substances, found to be in 
actual operation, the most powerful, manageable and 
versatile physical force in nature! 

The third great law of mechanical progress, at which 
we have thus briefly glanced, prevails as unequivocally 
in the moral world. The influences which are brought 
to bear upon the education and development of the 
human race in its early childhood, are of the roughest 
and most repulsive character: appetite, war, and 
slavery are the forces by which man is first excited, 
subdued and disciplined. Then follows the era of 
severe law, with rigorous and cruel penalties ; fright- 
ening the world into good behavior, and at the same 
time teaching it the rudiments of justice. After this 
comes the age of chivalry, based upon a proud and 
worldly sense of honor; an ethical eode, earnest 
and true, but disjointed and unspiritual; a religion, 
with more of magnificence than intelligence, with more 
of zeal than humanity, and which burns those whom 
it cannot convert. Then follows the bustling period 
of practical philanthropy, which shrinks from the 
sight of stripes and blood, though it may hear un- 
moved the cries of a wounded soul ; which cares more 



200 MECHANICAL AND 

for comfort than for creeds; and is more interested 
in making the present life desirable, than in providing 
for a life to come. This is the age of moral mechan- 
ics; when, by a proper adjustment of levers and 
bands and wheels, it is hoped that bad materials may- 
be worked up into a good product, and the rotten 
fibres become strong by twisting. Every thing is to 
be done by organization ; societies, pledges, proces- 
sions, speeches, resolves and huzzas are to regenerate 
the world. This too will have its day, for the end 
is not yet ; and when all these contrivances have done 
their work, all which they can do, — and that will be 
infinitely less than their friends imagine, and perhaps 
somewhat more than their enemies suppose, — there 
will come a time, when man will fall back, not upon 
the elementary, moral powers of nature, but upon 
an interior force, dwelling supernaturally in the heart, 
which is the life of Grod in the soul of man. This 
point reached, the cumbrous machinery of reform, 
worked by the uncertain impulse of passion, which 
needs such constant tending to make it work at all, 
so much care to keep it from working wrong, goes 
out of use ; and nothing remains in the shape of vis- 
ible, moral agency, but those institutions which were 
ordained of Heaven from the beginning, and which 
bind the swift present to an eternal future. 

To talk of reform, and stop short of such a period 



MORAL PROGRESS. 201 

as this, what do you mean by human progress? 
What if the hour should come, when all the children 
of Adam shall have as much to eat as they want, and 
wear rich clothing, and live in palaces ; is this what 
man was made for? Is this the completion of his 
destiny ? Or, if you add to this general intelligence, 
love of art, scientific skill, and universal order ; shall 
we seek for nothing more? We can conceive of 
progress as far beyond this, as this is beyond the con- 
dition of the Hottentot, with his god hanging round 
his neck in the shape of a lump of clay. And this 
conception once lodged in the mind, this power of 
imagining an unlimited and unending progress in all 
the noblest endowments of the soul, nothing less than 
this can content us. And then all the advance that 
we can make in either mechanical or moral science, 
comes to be regarded only as subordinate and subsid- 
iary to something beyond. Then we labor in the 
cause of human freedom, not merely that we may 
secure to all their inalienable rights, — "life, liberty, 
and the pursuit of happiness," — but that they may 
be fitted for the great work of self- discipline, upon 
which eternal issues are depending. " We restore to 
man his rights, that he may practise his duties. We 
would have a fairer equalization of property ; because 
excessive wealth bringeth a snare, and abject poverty 
induces crime. We would relieve man of incessant 



202 MECHANICAL AND 

bodily toil, that lie may devote his energies to a 
higher sort of labor. We would sow broad cast that 
precious seed which bears perrennial harvests. 

With such an ideal of progress before us, we are 
cheered with the thought, that this ulterior and final 
end may be attained, even though we never succeed 
in banishing all evil and suffering from the world. 
Something of trial and pain we shall be content to 
endure still; for the highest moral discipline of the 
•race can be wrought out only through endurance. 
Whatever supposable advance be made in me- 
chanical and moral science; it will always remain 
true, that a mighty work will be demanded of every 
individual human will. No organic progress can 
ever supersede the necessity of vigorous and painful 
effort on the part of each and every child of earth. 
There is that in the very constitution of man which, 
to the end of time, must subject him to an imperative 
and terrible struggle with himself, before he can 
become what Grod intended that he should be. He 
must grapple with passion, as one with naked arms 
grasps the infuriate tiger; and the man must throttle 
the beast, or die. Every great, generic reform may 
have reached its ultimatum, every fetter may be 
broken, every sword buried, every cry of aching 
poverty hushed, every wilderness turned into a gar- 
den of roses ; it is still inevitable that every child of 



MORAL PROGRESS. 203 

Adam, in the awful solitude of his soul, must keep 
his solemn vigil, and gather up his energies to fight 
for his own moral freedom. But, this combat over 
and the victory won, he may raise the shout of tri- 
umph over the whole dominion of nature; he has 
subdued himself, and after that, all the powers of the 
earth and the air do him homage. He has redeemed 
his soul; and by that token, he holds an inalienable 
and universal right of redemption. All things serve 
man, when he begins to serve his God. 



THE END, 









"^o* 



.*< 



•>-„ <v . , 



* *>5zH"MNOd * * Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 



Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 
Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Date: Dec. 2004 



nna ■» . Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 

<l3 \fK ° HArflf>\SS» * ^ **€» " Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 

VV °*Vd'%v\* *b> ^& Treatment Date: Dec. 2004 

• *■••♦ "*b 4?> o»«> <j PreservationTechnologies 

BjJ^fez,'*, ^ «S %*^^S*Xh"^r* A WORLD LEADER IN PAPER PRESERVATION 

lm4fi£^j]!\ - ^5-j iTP' O 0\*JSS*flgk!* " 1 1 1 Thomson Park Drive 



:ucn in rsrcn rnca 

1 1 1 Thomson Park Drive 
Cranberry Township, PA 16066 
(724)779-2111 






4 . ** <£ / 













* 43^ sf* 



v3 'o . » * 




•' ** 










Ay «2» • ' * -*" ^ • • • AT 



* v : 




• ^^ •* 



HH MAY 82 

BpSf N. MANCHESTER 
^^^ INDIANA 46962 




















*°* 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




